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THE HUMANIST'S LIBRARY 

Edited by Lewis Einstein 

VIII 

GALATEO 

OF MANNERS AND 

BEHAVIOURS 



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Copyright, 1914, by D. B. Updike 



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JUL -fi I9W 

©CI, A a ''4 7. 1.0 



A TABLE OF CONTENTS 

Introducftion ix 

The Dedication 3 

Commendatory Verses 6 

The Treatise of Master jhon Delia Casa 13 

Bibliographical Note 121 



INTRODUCTION 



INTRODUCTION 






ONE day, in Rome, about the middle of the 
sixteenth century, the Bishop of Sessa sug- 
gested to the Archbishop of Benevento 
that he write a treatise on good manners. Many 
books had touched the subjecft on one or more 
of its sides, but no single book had attempted 
to formulate the whole code of refined conducfl 
for their time and indeed for all time. And who 
could deal with the subjecft more exquisitely 
than the Archbishop of Benevento? As a scion 
of two distinguished Florentine families (his mo- 
ther was a Tornabuoni), as an eminent prelate 
and diplomatist, an accomplished poet and orator, 
a master of Tuscan prose, a frequenter of all the 
fashionable circles of his day, the author of licen- 
tious capitoli, and more especially as one whose 
morals were distincflly not above reproach, he 
seemed eminently fitted for the office of arbiter 
elegantiarum. 

So it was that some years later, in disfavour with 
the new Pope, and in the retirement of his town 
house in Venice and his villa in the Marca Tri- 
vigiana, with a gallant company of gentlemen 
and ladies to share his enforced but charming 
leisure, the Archbishop composed the little book 

ix 



Intro- that had been suggested by the Bishop of Sessa, 
ducflion and that, as a compliment to its "only begetter,'* 
bears as a title his poetic or academic name. 

There have been modern scholars who have 
wondered that so eminent a prelate, and so aus- 
tere and passionate a lyric poet (for the licen- 
tious capitoli were best forgotten), "should have 
thought it worthy of his pains to formulate so 
many rules of simple decency," descending even 
to such trifles as the use of the napkin, the avoid- 
ance of immodest topics, and the details of per- 
sonal apparel. It might, however, be pointed out 
that it is just because such distinguished men as 
our Archbishop formulated these details for us in 
the Renaissance that they have become part and 
parcel of our social code; that to quarrel with the 
Archbishop on this score were not unlike quar- 
relling with Euclid because he formulated laws 
of geometry which mathematicians nowadays 
leave to schoolboys ; and that the serious preoc- 
cupation with manners, characfteristic of the Mid- 
dle Ages and the Renaissance, made it possible 
for modern European society to form an organic 
social whole, with a model of the finished gen- 
tleman, more or less the same in all countries and 
all periods. 

But the facfl is that it is the didacftic form and 
tone, and not the content, of the Archbishop's 
treatise with which our modern taste has its quar- 
rel. If books on etiquette are no longer in fashion, 

X 



it is not because preoccupation with the details Intro- 

of social conducft has ceased, but because we no ducftion 

longer express it in the form of rules or codes. 

Our plays, our novels, our essays, are mosaics 

of reflections on the very things that interested 

the courts and coteries of the Renaissance. When 

a modern writer wishes to enforce the idea that 

such apparent trifles are of real concern, he no 

longer says: "It is important that every young 

man should pay careful heed to the little tricks 

of manners," but he puts into the mouth of one 

of his characters, as Mr. Galsworthy does, such a 

speech as this : " For people brought up as we are, 

to have different manners is worse than to have 

different souls. . . . How are you going to stand 

it; with a woman who ? It 's the little things." 

The Archbishop of Benevento, if permitted to 
read passages like this in modern plays and es- 
says, would recognize his own ideas in all of 
them; he could point to dialogues and discourses 
of his own time in which dogmatic precepts were 
in like manner disguised as witty and elegant 
conversation; but because he was the producft of 
an age of formal treatises, exquisitely written, 
he would have insisted on his right to state pre- 
cepts as precepts, and to sum them up in such a 
rounded code as he has given us in the*'Galateo." 
The " Galateo," then, is a summary of the re- 
fined manners of the later Renaissance. For cen- 
turies such books had been written, but out of 

xi 



Intro- them, and from the pracflices of his own age, 
ducflion Delia Casa attempted to selecfl the essential de- 
tails, and to develop, for the first time, a norm of 
social conducft, — in a book, above all, that should 
be a work of art, and should conform to all the 
graces and elegancies of Tuscan speech. The de- 
tails are subordinated to a philosophy of man- 
ners, which is lightly sketched, on the assump- 
tion that subtle reasoning would be unintelligible 
to the youthful auditor to whom the precepts 
are theoretically addressed, but which has an im- 
portance of its own, as characfteristic of the atti- 
tude of a whole epochs When Delia Casa calls good 
manners "a virtue, or something closely akin to 
virtue," he is making a mere concession to the 
ideals of his day. The moralists of the later Re- 
naissance, or Catholic Reacftion, felt it necessary 
to defend every social pracftice on the ground 
of its real or imaginary relation to virtue, as the 
only thing which can ever justify anything to 
a moralist. So the sixteenth century theorists of 
"honour" called honour a form of virtue; those 
who argued about the nature of true nobility 
made it to consist of virtue (a theory, indeed, as 
old as Menander and Juvenal) ; just as the mor- 
alists of the Middle Ages had justified " love" by 
calling it a virtue, too. 

For Delia Casa, however, the real foundation 
of good manners is to be found in the desire to 
please. This desire is the aim or end of all man- 
xii 



ners, teaching us alike to follow what pleases Intro- 
others and to avoid what displeases them. This is ducftion 
a far cry from virtue, which in its very essence 
would seem to be divorced from the idea of con- 
ciliating the moods or whims of those about us; 
unless we assume that perhaps the slight per- 
sonal sacrifice involved in yielding to such whims 
was the only form of virtue which a fashion- 
able prelate might care to recognize. In order to 
give pleasure, we are told, it is essential to pay 
heed to the way a thing is done as well as to what 
is done; it is not enough to do a good deed, but 
it must be done with a good grace. That is to 
say, good manners are concerned with the form 
which acflions take, as morals are concerned with 
their content; and from the social standpoint, the 
manner as well as the content of an acfl must be 
passed upon in any judgement of it. And, finally, 
if the desire to please is the aim of good man- 
ners, the guide, or test, or norm is common usage 
or custom, which no less than reason furnishes the 
laws of courtesy, and which in a sense may be 
said to be the equivalent in manners of what 
duty is in morals. 

It will be seen that Delia Casa does not concern 
himself with that conception of manners which 
relates it to a sense of personal dignity, and which 
is summed up in Locke's dicftum that the foun- 
dation of good breeding is "not to think meanly 
of ourselves and not to think meanly of others." 

xiii 



Intro- This side of the social ideal was summed up for 
ducftion the later Renaissance in the term "honour," which 
formed the theme of many separate treatises 
in the sixteenth century. The "Galateo" deals 
solely with those little concessions to the tastes 
and whims of those around us which are neces- 
sitated by the fadt that cultivated gentlemen 
are not hermits, and must consider the customs 
and habits of others if they wish to form part of 
a smoothly organized and polished society. We 
may prefer to call this "considerateness for the 
feelings of others," but, essentially, most justifi- 
cations of good manners depend on the same 
idea of conciliating the accidental and immedi- 
ate circle in which we happen to move, at the 
expense of wider interests or larger groups; and 
both " considerateness " and " the desire to please " 
fail as justifications, or at least as incitements, as 
soon as the idea of success within a definite circle 
is eliminated or submerged. 

It is unnecessary, however, to break so fragile 
a butterfly as Delia Casa's philosophy on any 
wheel of serious argument. He is interested solely 
in the superficial aspecfls of life, and an intricate 
or consistent philosophy would have served no 
other purpose than to alienate or confuse minds 
concerned, like his own, solely with life on its su- 
perficial side. On the basis of such ideas, — to please 
others; to win their good graces and one's own 
ultimate success ; to be sweetly reasonable in con- 
xiv 



forming to custom ; to perform every adt with an Intro- 
eye to its effecft on those about us, --on the basis ducflion 
of ideas as elementary yet appealing as these, 
he formulates in detail the precepts of conducft 
for daily human intercourse in a refined society. 
In the first place, there are the things that are 
to be avoided because they offend the senses. 
Coughing, sneezing, or yawning in someone's 
face, greediness or carelessness in eating, and 
various sides of our physical life fall within this 
category. We are not only to avoid indiscretion 
in such matters, but we are to refrain from men- 
tioning in conversation whatever might be in- 
delicate as a physical acft. In the second place, 
there are other indiscretions that have no such 
basis in the mere senses, and refer solely to the 
mental attitude or to the mere personal pride of 
our neighbours. To read a letter or to fall asleep 
in company, to turn your back to your neighbour, 
to be careless about one's way of standing or sit- 
ting, to be absent-minded or touchy about trifles, 
are social sins of this second kind. The art of con- 
versation was the mainstay of social life in the 
Italian Renaissance, and to it Delia Casa natu- 
rally, at this point, devotes most of his attention. 
To be obscene, or blasphemous, or too subtle; to 
dwell on inappropriate things (as when repeat- 
ing a friar's sermon to a young lady); to brag or 
lie; to be too ceremonious or too servile; to tell 
a story awkwardly or to mention indelicate mat- 

XV 



Intro- ters without some polite periphrasis;— these are 
ducflion some of the chief sins against this art of arts. 
There is very much that is modern in the diatribe 
against the ceremoniousness that was then creep- 
ing into Italy from Spain, for sixteenth century 
Venice was not unlike nineteenth century Eng- 
land in its preference for ease and simplicity, and 
a grave and reasonable charm of manner. Finally, 
there are the details of individual conducft dic- 
tated essentially by custom, without apparent 
regard to the physical comfort or personal pride 
of those about us ; and under this third heading, 
Delia Casa summarizes the various problems of 
personal apparel, table manners, and the like. 

Delia Casa invents no new laws for conducft, 
deduces no new theories of courtesy or manners; 
even the details are to be found in many of his 
mediaeval and Renaissance predecessors. What 
he adds, in precept or didlum or anecdote, is the 
fruit both of his own social experience and of 
his classical studies. His book is, like Castiglione's 
" Cortegiano" and Sannazzaro's " Arcadia,"almost 
a mosaic of Greek and Latin borrowings. Aris- 
totle's "Nicomachean Ethics," Plutarch's moral 
treatises, the ** Characfters" of Theophrastus, and 
the moral and rhetorical works of Cicero are the 
chief sources, although none of these books is de- 
voted solely, like his, to the superficial conducft of 
men among their equals and superiors. But even 
to these he adds something that was born out of 
xvi 



those refinements of life which in Renaissance Intro- 
Italy had been developed more highly than else- ducftion 
where, and had made the fashions of Urbino, 
Mantua, and Ferrara the models of all courts and 
coteries, wherever the Renaissance gained afoot- 
hold beyond the Alps. In the courts and cities 
of Italy, combining alike the atmosphere of the 
mediaeval court and the ancient city, — combin- 
ing, that is to say, "courtoisie" and **civilitas" 
(urbanitas),— the modern "gentleman," as distin- 
guished from his classical or romantic forbears, 
may be said to have been born. 

"Courtesy," as its very name indicates, is the 
flowering of that spirit which first shone in the 
little courts of mediaeval Provence and France, 
but which did not, perhaps, find its most com- 
plete expression, as a philosophy of life, until 
Castiglione wrote the "Cortegiano" at the be- 
ginning of the sixteenth century. By that time 
the small court was already beginning to give 
way to the larger court or the cultivated coterie 
as the overwhelming centre of social influence in 
Europe, although the glory of Ferrara and Man- 
tua and Urbino did not wane for two or three 
generations. But even before Castiglione's day 
the more humane and graceful of courtly man- 
ners had spread beyond the confines of courts ; 
and almost before he was dead, the name "cour- 
tesy," in so far as it still suggested a definite locus, 
no longer expressed the new wide range of pol- 

xvii 



Intro- ished manners. Other words crept into cultivated 
dudlion speech, so that, by the first half of the seven- 
teenth century, we find in a little French treatise 
on manners, the " Loix de la Galanterie," four dis- 
tincft terms for man regarded simplyas a creature 
of social manners, --courtisain, honnete homme, 
galant, and homme du monde. The first of these, 
as described by Castiglione, seemed to this author 
Italianate and obsolete, and the second, which 
had just furnished the title to a treatise on " L' Hon- 
nete Homme, ou I'Art de Plaire a la Cour," still 
retained something of its original moral signifi- 
cance, so that " gallant " and "man of the world " 
summed up, best of all, the social qualities of the 
life of the day. It is no longer the court but the 
** monde" about which social life centres, not that 
other men do not belong to the world (as this 
author naively explains) , but because we are con- 
cerned solely with that great world which is the 
home of fashion. This was the age of precieux 
and precieuses, and their code was no longer that 
of the court of Urbino, as it flourished in Castigli- 
one's day; it was the over-refined manners of the 
academies and coteries of Siena and Ferrara dur- 
ing the later sixteenth century that furnished all 
that was essential in French preciosite. For the mo- 
ment "gallantry" sufficed to express good man- 
ners ; but gradually it too became obsolete, and 
the Latin term "civility," with its inclusion of all 
civil society rather than any group or class, super- 
xviii 



seded both" gallantry " and " courtesy." " Courtois Intro- 
is scarcely any longer used in cultivated con- ducftion 
versation," Callieres, a French wit of the end of 
the seventeenth century, tells us, '* just as civilite 
has replaced courtoisie." Indeed, the word "cour- 
toisie" no longer finds a place in any but ele- 
vated or poetic language in France to-day; and 
English speech, which has retained it after its ori- 
ginal meaning has been lost, now finds it neces- 
sary to distinguish between the courtly and the 
courteous, by the former suggesting the content 
of what once, at least in part, belonged to the 
latter. 

It is the "civilitas" of ancient Rome no less than 
the "civilite" of seventeenth century France that 
is summed up in the "Galateo." As Castiglione 
expresses the courtly ideals of the Middle Ages 
and the Renaissance, so Delia Casa expresses the 
ideals of manners no longer restridled to courts 
and courtiers, but common to all cultivated ci- 
vilians, the manners that were to form the basis 
of the European code from that time to this. 
A long line of Italian predecessors had prepared 
the way for its coming. Indeed, every encyclo- 
paedia, every romance of chivalry of the Middle 
Ages, contains precepts which find a place in its 
pages. In the late thirteenth and early fourteenth 
centuries, Provence and Italy had already begun 
to furnish books on such subjecfls. The "Breviari 
d'Amor" of Matfre Ermengaud includes instruc- 

xix 



Intro- tion in social conducft; the Italian, Bonvesin da 
ducftion Riva, had written a treatise on ** Fifty Courtesies 
of the Table;" Francesco da Barberino had dealt 
at length with " The Manners and Behaviour of 
Women; "still later, Sulpizio Verulano had writ- 
ten a treatise on the table manners of children, 
which had found currency beyond the Alps; and 
most influential of all, the great Erasmus, in 1^26, 
had dealt at length with children's manners in his 
*'De Civilitate Morum Puerilium Libellus." Delia 
Casa follows tradition, or is moved by the exam- 
ple of Erasmus, to the extent of representing his 
book as the discourse of an old man to a young 
one; but this is a mere subterfuge, and neither 
youth nor age figures in the precepts that follow. 
Unlike his predecessors, he is concerned not 
merely with children, or with women, or with 
the ideals of a narrow class like the courtier, or 
with the general moral life of which manners are 
only an ornament or a garment. He has written 
a book that touches on the essentials of good man- 
ners as they affedl all classes and groups which 
aim at individual perfecftion,--not merely the 
young, but the mature; not merely men or wo- 
men, but both sexes; not merely the courtier, 
but all cultivated classes. In this sense, it is the 
first of its kind. It is a trifling and perhaps neg- 
ligible kind, but at least this much distincftion 
belongs to the book. 

The " Galateo " is a producft of the Catholic Re- 

XX 



acflion. It is one of the results of the casuistry and Intro- 
the scholastic spirit which in every field of in- ducftion 
tellecftual acftivity were applied to the life and 
art that had found creative expression in the age 
of the Renaissance. What the Renaissance did 
or wrote, the Catholic Reacflion reasoned about, 
codified, and stereotyped. The creative poetry 
of the Renaissance was reduced to formulae in 
the treatises on the art of poetry of the later six- 
teenth century; politics and history found rea- 
soned expression in treatises on political theory 
and historical method; and in similar fashion, the 
social life of earlier Italy resulted in this age in 
treatises on the pracftice and theory of society. 
It would be idle to catalogue the various exam- 
ples of this curious intellecftual acflivity, for the 
works of the sixteenth century dealing with this 
subjecft may be numbered by hundreds, indeed 
by thousands. There were of course treatises on 
court life and the ideals of the courtier, from the 
"Cortegiano" of Castiglione to the discourses of 
Domenichi and Tasso; treatises on honour and 
the duel, of which Possevino's "Dell'Onore'* is 
the type; treatises on the gentleman, his nature, 
his education, and his occupations, like "II Gen- 
tiluomo" of Muzio Justinipolitano, the quality of 
which may be tasted in English in Peacham's 
" Compleat Gentleman ; " treatises on love and the 
relations of the sexes, all summed up in Equi- 
cola's encyclopaedic " Libro di Natura d' Amore ; " 

xxi 



Intro- treatises on social amusements, parlor games, and 
ducflion the like, such as Scipione Bargagli's "I Tratteni- 
menti" and Ringhieri's "Cento Giuochi Liber- 
ali e d'Ingegno;" treatises on conversation, like 
Guazzo*s "Civil Conversatione;" and finally, a 
large number of treatises on the education of 
women and children. 

Among all these the "Cortegiano," one of the 
earliest, stands out preeminently, just because it 
is the spontaneous producfl of the age of which 
it is also a reasoned expression; that is to say, 
because it is a work of art of the Renaissance 
rather than a mere scholastic treatise of the Cath- 
olic Reacftion. It is in no sense a courtesy-book; 
it is concerned with principles of social conducft 
rather than with details of etiquette. But of all the 
mere courtesy-books, the "Galateo" alone sur- 
vives; its name is current coin in Italian speech 
to-day; and in the eighteenth century Dr. Johnson 
coupled it with the "Cortegiano" as "two books 
yet celebrated in Italy for purity and elegance." 
A French scholar of our own day has said that 
for modern culture "antiquity" means ancient 
Greece and Rome, but that for modern manners 
"antiquity" means mediaeval France. Yet this is 
only in part true, and these sixteenth century 
books sum up that combination of "courtoisie" 
and "civilitas" which gives its special note to 
Renaissance manners, and which distinguishes 
such books from their predecessors of the twelfth 
xxii 



^ 



to the fifteenth centuries. We have but to exam- Intro- 
ine any typical discussion of manners in medi- ducflion 
aeval literature, such as the famous description 
of the exquisite table manners of the Prioress in 
the Prologue to the "Canterbury Tales," or the 
passage in the "Roman de la Rose" from which 
Chaucer borrowed his own details, to note a 
characfteristic distinction. Both of these passages 
are concerned with women; in the Middle Ages it 
was only a woman who was supposed to exhibit 
such refined delicacy in the details of conducft. 
Liberality, magnanimity, courage, loyalty, chiv- 
alrousness to women, and courtesy in its larger 
sense,— these and other social virtues the mediae- 
val man was supposed to possess ; but even in the 
courtly circles of Provence, it may be doubted 
whether the delicacy and rSfinement of every 
movement which Chaucer ascribes to his Pri- 
oress would have been expecfled of the court- 
liest knight. Moderation and discretion —called 
"measure" or "manner "—were the nearest me- 
diaeval approach to these requirements for men. 
Moderation may be said to be implicit in the 
ideal of the gentleman in every age (indeed, it 
may be said to express the limitations of the 
ideal, for moderation is as often a vice as a virtue) ; 
but it was never more insisted on than in those 
ages when it was heeded least. For the Middle 
Ages, measure and good manners were almost 
synonymous terms. "Courtesy and measure are 

xxiii 



Intro- the same thing,"— we are told in the fourteenth 
dudtion century French romance of "Perceforest/' — ^for 
manner and measure must be added to all your 
deeds if you would have great virtue." This may 
seem to be closely akin to Delia Casa's statement 
that polished behaviour consists in adding a good 
grace to a good deed; but to the hero of "Perce- 
forest," it would have argued lack of "measure," 
or discretion, for any man to adopt graces and 
refinements so essentially feminine and unmanly 
as the table manners of Chaucer's Prioress. 

It was in the Renaissance, and in the courts and 
cities of Italy, that the larger virtues of measure 
and magnanimity and liberality were first felt to 
be inadequate, in men no less than in women 
and children, without the minor nuances of good 
manners. It was first felt there that in such mat- 
ters as yawning or coughing in another's face, 
carelessness and greediness in eating, and other 
annoying traits, there could be only one standard 
for both sexes and for all ages. If the mediaeval 
ideal of "courtoisie" was based essentially on the 
relation of the sexes, without regard to individual 
instincfl or social agreement in the wider sense, 
the ** Galateo," in basing good manners on the 
desire to please others, wholly regardless of sex, 
represents a real advance, or at least a widen- 
ing of social interest. On a basis of mediaeval 
manners, then, the Renaissance superimposed 
the classical ideal of " urbanitas " or "civilitas." 
xxiv 



In keeping with the spirit of his time, Delia Casa Intro- 
rounded all this pracflice and precept into a code; ducftion 
and because to codify is to stereotype, he is in 
part responsible for the facfl that the pattern he 
formulated has scarcely been altered from his 
day to ours. 

There is one side of persona! manners, however, 
in which there has been much change. When 
Bacon says that "cleanness of body was ever 
deemed to proceed from a due reverence to 
God," he can hardly be said to summarize theo- 
logical opinion on the subjecft of cleanliness in the 
preceding fifteen hundred years. The rules of St. 
Benedicft permit bathing only to invalids and the 
very old, except on rare occasions; although an 
eighteenth century French ecclesiastic insists that 
the church never objecfted to bathing, "provided 
one indulges in it because of necessity and not 
for the sake of pleasure." But our concern is only 
with secular society, and there we find that clean- 
liness was considered only in so far as it was a 
social necessity, if indeed then; as an individual 
necessity or habit it scarcely appears at all. Delia 
Casa's standard of social manners applies here, 
too: cleanliness was dicftatedbythe need of pleas- 
ing others, and not because of any inner demand 
of individual instincfl. But even in this Italy was 
in advance of her neighbours, if personal cleanli- 
ness represents social advance. In France, odorous 
greatness was the rule, and contemporary chron- 

XXV 



Intro- ides record the filthy personal habits of Henry 
ducftion of Navarre, the great Conde,and Louis XIII. The 
*'Loix de la Galanterie," nearly a century after 
the "Galateo," advises the gallant to wash his 
hands everyday — and "his face almost as often." 
All this has changed. Personal cleanliness, be- 
cause of its complete acceptance as an individual 
necessity, has virtually ceased to touch the prob- 
lem of social manners at any point; and culti- 
vated society simply acffcs from time to time by 
formulating new delicacies of neatness and clean- 
liness, makes them the habit of life, and, forget- 
ting them completely, passes on to new trifles 
of perfecflion. Perhaps we can judge this modern 
change without too great an exaggeration of its 
importance, if we bear in mind the paradox of 
the modern wit, that "dirt is evil chiefly as evi- 
dence of sloth, but the facft remains that the classes 
that wash most are those that work least." 

I have already pointed out that one of the lim- 
itations of that code of good breeding which we 
have inherited from the Renaissance and which 
it is almost the mission of modern life to destroy, 
is that it looks merely to the comfort of those 
around us at any accidental point of time or 
place, often if not always at the expense of other 
groups, other classes, and wider interests. Those 
who inveigh against democracy as destrudtive 
of the "finer graces" of life have hit upon what 
is, for good or evil, the very essence of its re- 
xxvi 



formative programme. A modern idealist sums Intro- 
up this newer attitude when he says of the old ducftion 
code that it asks us "rather to let a million pine 
than hurt the feelings of a single man." But 
wholly apart from this, codes and rules have no 
more justification in the art of life than in the 
arts of poetry and painting. Each individual soul 
must express its past and its present, its inherit- 
ance and its aspiration, in its own way ; and it is 
as futile and vulgar to apply "rules " in the esti- 
mate of a life as it is in the criticism of a poem 
or a pidlure. Children and novices and immature 
societies may obtain pracftical guidance from the 
empirical observations of those who have had 
experience, but in order to create a real life of 
their own, a real social atmosphere, they must 
reach the point where the very rules that nur- 
tured them no longer apply. To disregard every 
rule of good breeding is the symbol of real at- 
tainment in the creative art of living. 

But this is no place to wage a battle for old 
codes or new ones. The " Galateo " describes habits 
and impulses that for centuries have moved the 
souls of men, dicftated their condudt, given them 
pleasure and pain, and that probably for cen- 
turies will continue to do so. Nothing that has so 
stirred men and women, however trifling it may 
seem, can fail to hold a little human interest for 
those who call themselves Humanists. 

J. E. S. 
New York, February, 19 14. 



A Galateo of Maister John Delia Casa, Arche- The Title 
bishop of Benevento. 

A Or rather, A Treatise of the Manners and Be- 
haviours, it behoveth a Man to use and eschewe, 
in his Familiar Conversation. AWorke very neces- 
sary & profitable for all Gentlemen, or Other. 

A First written in the Italian Tongue, and now 
done into English by Robert Peterson, of Lin- 
colnes Inne Gentleman. Satis, si sapienter. 

A Imprinted at London for Raufe Newbery 
dwelling in Fleetestreate litle above the Con- 
duit. An. Do. 1^76. 



J. To the Right Honorablemy singular good Lord, The Dedi 
the Lord Robert Dudley, Earle of Leicester, Baron cation 
of Denbigh, Knight of the Honorable order of the 
Garter, Maister of the Queenes Majesties Horses, 
and one of herHighnesse privie Counsel! : Robert 
Peterson wisheth perfecft felicitie. 

LIGHTING of late (Right Honorable) upon this 
treatise of courtesie, penned by an experi- 
-^ enced Italian, & drawn for the profit therof, 
in to so many languages: I thought his lessons 
fit for our store, & sought to make him speake 
Englishe. 

Wise was that Cato, that ended bothe his learn- 
ing, and living day together. And truly, Courte- 
sie and Courtiership,be like Hippocrates twinnes, 
that laughe together, and grow together: and 
are so one affecfted, that who so divorceth them, 
destroyeth them. But yet, seeing moe redie to 
condemne the least trip then commend the best 
meaning, and knowing that the Scarre sticketh 
thogh good desert do hele the wound : & perceiv- 
ing that Naevus in articulo pueri delecftat Al- 
caeum, & Roscii oculi perversissimi catulum. That 
is, many dote on their fansie: I durst not send this, 
mine Heirefic firs tefruites of my toile,to the view 
of the world, without the guarde of your Patron- 
age, wherin there is no presumption to teach them 
that are perfected, but may serve either as Si- 
monides Charac5lers,to stablish memory, or as an 



The Dedi- Index, to point them to other behaviours enrolled 
cation whersoever. Spread therefore (I beseeche your 

honour) the winges of wel liking over this worke, 
which presseth to you, as not only the patrone to 
protecfl,but the patterne to expresse any courte- 
sie therin conteined. Mine Authour reporteth one 
Maestro Chiarissimo a perfecft Mason, when he 
had described the finest precepts of his art, to have 
made his Regolo a piller so exadlly, as would 
bearethe proofeof every demonstration, thinking 
it learned speedely, where the mind and the eye, 
precept and experience joined hands together : 
whose steps I tread (though with better successe 
then mine Author, who could not findea Regolo) 
hoping, when others shall come to trie these pre- 
ceptes, not by showe or sound, as fooles do their 
Golde: but, by your behaviour, as by the touch- 
stone: when they shal come, not to ken aloofe, 
but at hand, to view your so singular demeanour, 
so civil, so courteous, as maketh you renoumed 
abrode, and honored at home: coveted of the 
Noblest, & wonderful of the learnedst: when 
they shall in the glasse of your courtesie, see 
the blots that blemishe the dignitie of their es- 
tate: when they compare these lessons with the 
Regolo, they shal herein see no lesse commod- 
itie, then was in Alcibiades Sileni (whereunto 
Socrates was compared) whiche though they 
bare not, in the front, any shewe of singularitie: 
yet within, bare they pidlures of excellent wit 
4 



/ 



6c delight. This worke, if it please' your honour The Dedi- 
to vouchsafe as a companion of ease to trace the cation 
pathes, which you have already so well beaten, 
(which presumeth not to be guide for conduc- 
tion) or if your honour daine at highe leasure to 
peruse it (whiche is not cunningly but faithfully 
translated) I doubt not, but your countenance 
will so credit the Author, as wil embolden him 
to presse amongst the thickest throng of Cour- 
tiers: And herewithall beseeche your honour, to 
accept the humble and dutifull meaning minde 
of him: who, not satisfied, till he might by some 
meanes give shewe of his thankefull minde, for 
your honorable favours shewed unto him, hathe 
offered this small, though as faithfull a gifte as 
Sinaetes did to Cyrus : hoping, that your honour 
will take it as well in worth, as Artaxerxes did 
his poore Persians handfull of water. Thus with 
hartie prayer, for the advauncement of your es- 
tate, increase of honor, & attainement of perfecfl 
and perpetual felicitie: I commend your Lord- 
ship, to the patronage and protecftion of the Al- 
mightie. Your Lordships mdste humHle to dis- 
pose and commaunde. 

Robert Peterson 



Com- Jt Al Signer Ruberto Peterson, esortandolo A 
menda- tradurre in Inghilese il Galateo 

^^^y R J. . 

Verses ^^^ posson dirsi avventurate carte 

Quelle ch' el dotto, e gentil Casa spese: 
Quand' in breve discors' a insegnar prese 
Del honesta creanza la prima arte. 

Poi che tanto si apprezz' in ogni parte 

Quel ch' ei ne scrisse, e ch' ei si ben intese 
E ch' ogn' un con maniere piu cortese 
Dal bel trattato suo tosto si parte. 

Esso a Donn' e donzelle, & cavallieri 

Non sol d' Italia: ma di Francia, e Spagna 
Di gentilezza mostr' i modi veri. 

Venga per voi felice anco in Brettagna 
E parli Inglese ne Palazzi alteri 
Del regn' invitto che '1 Tamigi bagna. 

Francesco Pucci 



Le creanze,^e i costumi, 
Tanto splendenti lumi, 
Ch'a gli huomini fan 1' huom superiore, 
Eccoli tratti fore 
De ritalico seno 
E piantati ne I'Anglico terreno. 
Or se li goda ogniun, che porta amore 
A i suo decoro, e a 1 suo compiuto onore. 

Alessandro Citolini 



Edouardus Cradoccus, S. Theologiae Dodlor & Com- 
Professor menda- 

iVioribus quisquis rudis est ineptis, Verses 

Nescit is vitam placidam tueri: 
Nemini gratus, sociusque nulli 

Charus habetur. 

Quisquis at pulchre simul & decore 
Se gerit, mentis studio repellens 
Rusticos mores, popularis ille 

Jure videtur. 

Hoc Petersoni liber hie venustus 
Praestat, ostendens habitu decoro 
Possit ut quisque probitate splendens 

Utilis esse. 

Idque dum magno satagit labore, 

Italum fecit patria loquela 

Hunc perornatas meus hie amicus 

Fundere voces. 



Com- Thomas Drant, Archedeacon in praise of this 

menda- Booke 

tory A 

Verses ^^ happy turne that Casa once did hatche, 

Of haviours choice this booke in Ital' phrase: 

An Archebishop, and writer without matche 

In this he was, and peereles pight with praise. 

Such he his lore so well and wise doth lend: 

It heare ne reade we can, but must amend. 

This booke by Tiber, and by Po hath past, 
Through all Italia Townes and Country lands. 
Iberus, throughe thy Spanishe coasts as fast 
It after yoade: and Gauls it held in hands, 
Throughe Rhenus realmes it spred in prosper- 
ous speede, 
To Lordes and Ladies reaching comly reede. 

It Peterson, to Britain eyes doth bring 
Translated true and trimme: and fit to frame 
Faire maners fine for men. This prety Ring 
Bedecketh feate our life: discourse and game 
It ordereth apt with grace. The booke is grave. 
Eke wise and good, for civil folke to have. 



To his friend Maister Robert Peterson Gent. Com- 

1 hy Galateo (Peterson) doth shrowd him selfe 

^° 'o"g- VeLs 

What? shall it sleepe Endymions yeares? thou 

dost thy countrie wrong. 
She hath a childs parte, Plato saies, and with the 

Author cries, 
That both thy toile,and this her gaine,may reare 

his skill to skies. 
What thoughe thou thinke thy present small, for 

view of gallant ones 
This litle Diamond, shall out prize, a quarry full 

of stones. 
And Noble Cyrus (Man) will daine cold water 

in Sinaetaes hand: 
Then fray not, if thy booke, in pure, unfiled 

termes doe stand. 
Translatours can not mount: for though, their 

armes with wings be spread. 
In vaine they toile to take the flight, their feete 

are clogd with lead. 
This faith, that makes the Authour, speake his 

owne in language new: 
Renoumes the more, then if thou blazdst it out, 

in painted hew. 
For, serpents lurke in greenest grasse, and with 

a gar i she gloze, 
The Strumpet pounts in pride, where matrones 

marche in comelie clothes. 



Com- Go publishe it, and dreade not scowling Momus 
menda- poisond spite. 

tory And though Archilochus lambes fly, or Theons 
Verses taunts doe bite: 

Thinke, winds doe haunt the gallauntst trees, and 

Envy things of state. 
And lightning checks, Cerauniaes tops, whome 

no hils els do mate. 
The best have borne the bob, and Zoiles brutes 

durst geve the charge: 
But Zoile hangs, and Callisthen keepes in cage 

for talking large. 
And yet,wordes they be winde: but as erst Plin- 

ies Draconite 
No toole could pierce or carve: or as the gemme 

Chalazias hight, 
Keepes cold, though it in Aetna frie, or Adian- 

tons flowers 
Drawes not a drop, though skies distill downe 

everlasting showers: 
So good desert, doth chalenge good reporte by 

reasons rate, 
Though oft they beare the checkes and taunts, 

they cannot take the mate. 
Yet seeke Mecaenas wings to shroude thy toile: 

Virgilio 
Found his Augustus: Ennie thou maist fmde thy 

Scipio. 
This trump shall sound thy praise. Sir Phoebus 

golden rayes shall turne 

ID 



To foggie mistes, and seas that beare their ysie Com- 

crust, shall burne: menda- 

And lumpishe lowte, with country shares shall tory 

sake Sea fome divide, Verses 

And sowe his graine in Afrik Syrtes that wallow 

every tide, 
Before this worke shall die: which neither Joves 

thundering threate. 
Nor fierie flames shall waste, nor rustie, cankred 
age shall freate. 

Nolo Persium nolo Laelium. 

Your friend. I. Stoughton 
Student 



II 



Com- 1 he vine is praisde, that daintie grape doth give 

menda- Although the fruite more please then holsome be, 

tory Each fertil tree, is favord for the fruite. 

Verses Sq is the hearb that gallant is to see. 

If this be trueth, he needes must merit well, 
That gives us groundes to guide our erring wayes, 
And trades us truely in the golden maze. 
Where vertue growes, and courtlike manner 
stayes. 

Galateo first did frame this golden booke 
In Ital land. From thence it went to Spaine. 
And after came into the coasts of Fraunce. 
And nowe at last in England doth remaine. 

The Authour sure deserveth more renoume. 
That so could spend his time for our behoofe, 
Then my poore wit or cunning can recite. 
As thou thy selfe by reading shalt finde proofe. 

And as the Authour merits passing well. 
So doth my friend deserve as greate a meede: 
That makes a worke so hard to understand. 
So easie that each simple may it reede. 

I say no more: for (lo) it were in vaine 
To praise good wine by hanging up a bushe. 
The best will give (I hope) my friende his due. 
As for the bad, I way them not a rushe. 

Thomas Browne of L. I. Gent. 

12 



THE TREATISE OF 
MASTER JHON DELLA CASA 

Wherin under the person of an old unlearned 
itian, instrucfling a youthe of his, he hath talke 
of the maners and fashions, it behoves a man 
to use or eschewe, in his familiar conversation: 
intituled Galateo, of fashions and maners. 

FOR as muche as thou doste now enter the 
journy, wherof I have allredy ronne forth 
the better parte (as thou seest) I meane the 
transitorie waye of this mortall life: I have 
determined (such is the Love I beare thee) to 
shewe all the daungerous straights thou must 
passe: For my experience maketh me feare, y* 
walking that way thou mayst easily either fall, 
or by some meanes or other go astray. To the 
ende thou maist once, taughte both by my in- 
strudlions and experience, be able to keepe the 
right waye, as well for the helthe of thy Soule, 
as the commendation and praise of the Hon- 
ourable and Noble house thou doest come of. 
And bycause thy tender Age, is unfit (as yet) 
to receave more principall and higher precepts, 
reserving them for fitter time, I will beginn to 
discourse of such things as many men will 
deeme, perchaunce, but trifles: I meane what 
manner of Countenance and grace, behoveth a 
man to use, that hee may be able in Commu- 

13 



Galateo nication and familiar acquaintance with men, to 
shewe him selfe plesant, courteous, and gentle: 
which neverthelesse is either a vertue, or the 
thing that comes very nere to vertue. And al- 
beit Liberalise, or magnanimitie, of themselves 
beare a greater praise, then, to be a well taught 
or manored man: yet perchaunce, the courte- 
ous behaviour and entertainement with good 
maners and words, helpe no lesse, him that hath 
them: then the high minde and courage, ad- 
vaunceth him in whome they be. For these be 
such things as a man shall neede alwayes at all 
hands to use, because a man must necessarily 
be familiar with men at all times, & ever have 
talk 6c communication with them: But justice, 
fortitude, and the other greater, and more noble 
vertues, are seldome put in uze. Neither is y® 
liberall and noble minded man, caused every 
hower to doe bountifull things: for to use it 
often, cannot any man beare the charge, by any 
meanes. And these valiant men y^ be so full of 
highe minde and courage: are very seldome 
driven to trye their valour & vertue by their 
deeds. Then as muche as these last, doe passe 
those first, in greatnes (as it were) & in weight: 
so much do the other surmount these in num- 
ber, & often occasion to use them. And, if I could 
wel intend it, I could name you many, whoe, 
(being otherwise of litle account) have ben & be 
still, muche estemed & made of, for their chere- 
14 



full & plesaunt behaviour alone: which hath bin Of Man- 
suche a heipe & advauncement unto them, that ners and 
they have gotten greate preferments, leaving Behav- 
farre behinde them, such men as have bin en- lours 
dowed with those other noble and better vertues, 
spoken of before. And as these plesaunt & gentle 
behaviours, have power to draw their harts & 
minds unto us, with whome we live: so contrari- 
wise, grosse and rude maners, procure men to 
hate and despise us. Wherby albeit the lawes, 
have injoined no paine for unmanerly & grose 
behaviours, as the fault that is thought but light 
(& to saye a trueth, it is not greate) yet we see 
notwithstanding, y^ nature herselfe punisheth 
them w^ sharpe 6c shrewde correcftion, putting 
them by this meanes, besydes y^ companie & fa- 
vour of men. And truly even as greate & foule 
faults, doe muche harme : so doe these light, much 
hurt, or hurte at least more often. For, as men 
doe commonly fere y® beasts y^ be cruell 6c wild, 
& have no maner of feare of som litle ones, as y® 
gnats and the flies, & yet by y® continual noi- 
aunce they find by them,complaine them selves 
more of thes then of y^ other: so it chaunceth 
y^ most men do hate in maner asmuche, y® un- 
manerly & untaught, as y® wicked, 6c more. So y* 
there is no doubte, but who so disposeth him- 
selfe to live, not in solitarie and deserte places, 
as Heremites, but in fellowship with men, and in 
populous Cities, will think it a very necessarie 



Galateo thing, to have skill to put himselfe forth comely 
and seemely, in his fashions, gestures and man- 
ers: the lacke of which parts doth make those 
other vertues lame, and litle or nothing can they 
work to good effecft, without other helpes: wheare 
this civilitieand courtesie, without other releefe or 
patrimonie, is riche of it selfe, 6c hath substance 
enough, as a thing y^standeth inspeache and ges- 
tures alone. 

And that y" mayst now more easily learne the 
way unto it, thou must understand, it behoves 
thee, to frame and order thy maners and doings, 
not according to thine owne minde and fashion: 
but to please those, with whome thou livest, and 
after that sort direcft thy doings : And this must 
be done by Discretion and Measure. For who so 
applieth himself to much, to feede other mens 
humors, in his familiar conversation, and behav- 
iour with men, is rather to be thought a Jester, a 
Jugler or flatterer, then a gentleman wel taught 
and nourtured: As contrariwise, whoe so hath 
no care or mind to please, or displese, is a rude, 
untaught, and uncourteous fellowe. For asmuche 
then, as our maners, have some pleasure in them 
when we respecft other men, and not our owne 
pleasure: if we diligently searche forthe what 
those things be, that most men do generally like 
or dislike: we shall in suche sorte wisely and eas- 
ily finde out, the meanes & wayes, to choose and 
eschewe, those fashions and maners, we are to 
i6 



leave or take, to live amongest men. We say Of Man- 
then, that every adl that ofFendeth any the com- ners and 
mon senses, or overthwarteth a mans will and Behav- 
desire, or els presenteth to the Imagination and lours 
conceite, matters unpleasaunt, & that likewise, 
which y® minde doth abhorre, such things I say 
bee naught, and must not be used: for we must 
not only refraine from such thinges as be fowle, 
filthy, lothsome and nastie: but we must not so 
muche as name them. And it is not only a fault 
to dooe such things, but against good maner, 
by any acfl or signe to put a man in minde of 
them. And therefore, it is an ilfavoured fashion, 
that some men use, openly to thrust their hands 
in what parte of their bodye they list. 

Likwise, I like it as ill to see a Gentleman set- 
tle him selfe, to do the needes of Nature, in pres- 
ence of men: And after he hath doone, to trusse 
him selfe againe before them. Neither would I 
have him (if I may geve him councell) when he 
comes from suche an occupation, so much as washe 
his hands, in the sight of honest company: for y* 
the cause of his washing, puts them in minde of 
some filthy matter that hath bene done aparte. 
And by the same reason, it is no good maner, 
when a man chaunceth to see, as he passeth the 
waye (as many times it happeneth) a lothesome 
thing, y^ wil make a man to cast his stomacke, to 
tourne unto the company, & shewe it them. And 
much worse I like it, to reache some stinking 

17 



Galateo thing unto a man to smell unto it: as it is many 
a mans fashion to do, w^ importunate meanes, 
yea, thrusting it unto their nose, saying: "Foh, 
feele I pray you, how this doth stink: "where they 
should rather say, "smell not unto it: for it hath 
an ill sent." And as these and like fashions offend 
the senses, to which they appertaine: so to grinde 
the teethe, to whistle, to make pitifull cries, to 
rubb sharpe stones together, and to file uppon 
Iron, do muche offend the Eares and would be 
lefte in any case. Neither must wee refraine those 
things alone, but we must also beware we do not 
sing, and specialy alone, if we have an untune- 
able voice, which is a common fault with moste 
men: And yet, hee that is of nature least apt 
unto it, doth use it moste. So there be some kinde 
of men, that in coffing or neesing, make suche 
noise, that they make a man deafe to here them: 
other some use in like things, so little discretion, 
that they spit in mens faces that stand about 
them: besides these there be some, that in yaun- 
ing, braye and crye out like Asses. And yet such, 
with open mouth wil ever say and do what they 
list, and make such noise, or rather such roaring, 
as the dumme man doth, when he striveth with 
him selfe to speake. All these yllfavoured fash- 
ions, a man must leave, as lothsome to the eare 
and the eye. And a man must leave to yawne 
muche, not only for the respedt of the matter 
I have saide alreadye, as that it seemes to pro- 
i8 



ceede, of a certaine werines, that shewes that he Of Man- 
that yawneth, could better like to be els where, ners and 
then there in that place : as wearied with the com- Behav- 
panie, their talke, and their doings. And sure, al- lours 
beit a man be many times disposed to yawne, 
yet if he be occupied with any delight, or earnest 
matter to think uppon: he shall have no minde to 
doe it. But if he be lumpishe & idle: it is an easy 
matter to fall in to it. And therefore, When a man 
yawneth, in place where there bee slouthfull and 
Idle folkes, that have nothing to doe, the rest, as 
you may see many times, yawne againe for com- 
panie by 6c by: as if he that yawned, had put 
them in minde to doe it, which of them selves 
they would have done first, if hee had not be- 
goone unto them. And I have many times heard 
learned and wise men say, that A yawner mean- 
eth as much in Latin as a careles and Idle bodie. 
Let us then flye these condicions, that loathe (as 
I said) the eyes, the Eares, & the Stomacke. For in 
using these fashions, we doe not only shewe that 
we take litle pleasure in the company, but we 
geve them occasion withall, to judge amis of us: 
I meane y^ we have a drowsye & hevie nowle, 
which makes us ill wellcom, to all companies 
we come unto. And when thou hast blowne thy 
nose, use not to open thy handkercheif, to glare 
uppon thy snot, as if y" hadst pearles and Ru- 
bies fallen from thy braynes: for these be slov- 
enly parts, ynough to cause men, not so much 

19 



Galateo not to love us, as if they did love us, to unlove 
us againe. As the Sprite of Labirintho doth tes- 
tifie (who soever he were that made it) who (to 
quenche y® heate wherwith Master John Boccase 
burned in desire and Love of his Lady unknowne) 
tells, come ella covaua la cenere, sedendosi insu le 
calcagna; &: tossiua, & isputaua farfalloni. 

It is also an unmanerly parte, for a man to 
lay his nose uppon the cup where another must 
drinke: or uppon the meatey^ another must eate, 
to the end to smell unto it: But rather, I would 
wish he should not smell at all, no not to that 
which he himselfe should eate and drinke: be- 
cause it may chaunce there might fall some 
droppe from his nose, that would make a man 
to loath it: although there fall nothing at all in 
deede. Neither, by mine advise, shalt thou reache 
to any man, that cup of wine wherof thy selfe 
hast first dronke and tasted: w^out he be more 
then a familiar friend unto thee. And much lesse 
must thou give any parte of the peare or the 
fruite, which thou hast bitten in thy mouth be- 
fore. And esteeme not light of my talke, for that 
these things be of little account: For even light 
stripes (their number may be such) be able to 
slaye fast ynoughe. 

Now you shall understand, there was in Verona, 

a bishop a wise man, a learned & of a singular good 

wit by nature, whose name was Giovanni Matheo 

Giberti : Amongst many good parts y^ were in him, 

20 



he was very courtious & liberall, to all gentlemen Of Man- 
& noble men that came unto him, doing them all ners and 
y^ honor he could in his house, not with overmuch Behav- 
pompe and cost, but with convenient entertaine- iours 
ment and measure, such as besemed well a man i 

of the Clergie. It chaunced in his time, a noble gen- 
tleman called Count Richard, passed that way, 
to spend a fewe dayes with the Bishop and his 
householde together: which was thoroughly fur- 
nished w^honestgentlemenand very well learned. 
And bycause they found him a Noble gentleman, 
courteous and well beseene in all good behav- 
iour, they praised him muche, and made muche of 
him, save that one unmanerly fashion they muche 
misliked in him. When the Bishop was advertised 
of it, consulting with some of his familiars about 
it (as he was a wise man in all his doings) straite 
they concluded, it should be necessary to let y® 
Count have knowledge of it: albeit they feared, 
theyshouldoffendhim. Upon this, y® Count taking 
his leave, and redy to ride away the next morn- 
ing, the Bishop called one of his servants unto 
him, (a man of good discretion) and gave him in 
charge to take his horse, to beare the Count com- 
pany, some parte of his waye: And when hesawe 
his time, after an honest sorte, to tell him, that 
which they had determined betwene them selves. 
The same gentleman that had this charge, was 
a man well strooken in yeares, very lerned, and 
mervailous pleasaunt, welspoken, comely, and 

21 



Galateo had muche frequented in his time, y^ Courtes of 
greate Princes: who was (perhaps) and is, called 
Galateo: at whose request and councell, I first 
tooke in hand to set forth this present treatise. 
Riding with the Count, he found him plesaunt 
talke ynoughe, and passing from one matter to 
another, when he thought it time to returne to 
Verona, in taking leave at parting, with a gentle 
& cherefull countenaunce, he used this speache 
unto him. "Sir Count, my Lorde yealdeth you 
many thanks for the honour you have done him, 
^. in that it hath pleased you to vouchesafe his 
poore house: and that he may not beunthank- 
full, for this your greate courtesie shewed unto 
him, he hath geven me in charge, that I must 
leave a present with you in his behalfe: and he 
sends it unto you with earnest request, that you 
please to take it in good worthe: and this is the 
gift. You are a goodly gentleman, and the best 
manered man my Lorde hath ever seene: So that 
very heedefully beholding your behaviours, and 
particularly considering them all, hee findeth no 
one that is not very comely and comendable, only 
one unsemely tricke alone excepted, which you 
make with your lippes and your mouth together, 
feeding at your meate with a certaine straunge 
noyes, unpleasaunt to all men that heare it. This 
my Lord willed me to tell you, and prayes you 
to endevour your selfe to leave it, and withall to 
accept in lewe of a beter present, this loving ad- 

22 



monition and councell of his : for he is sure, there Of Man- 
is none in the worlde, would make you the like ners and 
present." The Count (that never wist of his fault Behav- 
till now) hearing himselfe reproved, chaunged lours 
his countenance a little, blit (as a man full of stom- 
acke ynough) taking hart at grasse, he said : " Tell 
your Lorde, that if all the gifts that men wont to 
geve eche other, were such as his, men should be 
muche more riche then they are. And for his greate 
courtesie and liberalitie to mee, geve him many 
thanks I pray you, and let him be sure, I will not 
faile from henceforthe to mend my fault, and 
God be with you." ^ 

Now what shal we thinke this Bishop, his mod- 
est and honest company about him would say, 
if they sawe these whome wee see other while, 
(like swine w* their snouts in the washe, all be- 
groined) never lift up their heads nor lookeup,and 
muche lesse keepe their hands from the meate,and 
w* both their cheeks blowne (as if they should 
sound a trumpet, or blowe the fier) not eate but 
ravon: whoe, besmearing their hands, almost up 
to their elbowes, so bedawbe y® napkins, that y® 
cloathes in the places of easement, be other while 
cleaner. And to mend these slovenly maners, be 
not ashamed, many times with these filthy nap- 
kins, to wipe awaye the sweat that trickleth and 
falleth downe their browes, their face and their 
necke (they be such greedy guts in their feeding) 
and otherwhile to, (when it comes uppon them) 

23 



Galateo spare not to snot their sniveld nose uppon them. 
Truly these beastly behaviours and fashions, de- 
serve not alone, to be thrust out of this noble 
bishops house, that was so pure and cleane: but 
to be throughly banished all places, where any 
honest men should com. Let a man then take hede, 
hee doe not begrease his fingers so deepe, y^ he 
befyle the napkins to much: for it is an ill sight 
to see it: neither is it good maner, to rubbe your 
gresie fingers uppon y^ bread you must eate. 

The servaunts that bee appointed to waite 
uppon the table, must not (in any wise) scratche 
and rubbe their heades, nor any parte els in the 
sight of their Lorde & Master: nor thrust their 
hands in any those partes of their body that be 
covered, no not so muche as make any prof- 
fer: as some careles fellowes doo, holding their 
hands in their bosome, or cast under the flappes 
of their coates behind them. But they must beare 
them abroade without any suspicion and keepe 
them (in any case) washt & cleane without any 
spot of durt uppon them. And they that cary the 
dishes, or reache the cup, must beware at that 
time, they doe not spit, coughe or neese : for in such 
doings, Suspicion is as greate, and ofFendeth as- 
muche, as the very deede it selfe: and therefore, 
servants must forsee, they geve no cause to Mais- 
ters to suspecft: For that which might chaunce, 
anoyeth asmuche, as if it had chaunced indeede. 

And if thou do roaste any fruite, or make a toaste 
24 



at the fier, thou must not blowe of the ashes, (if Of Man- 
there be any) for it is an old saying, that, winde ners and 
was never without water. But y" must lightly Behav- 
strike it uppon the plate, or after some suche lours 
sorte or other beate of y^ ashes. Thou shalt not 
offer thy handkerchiefe to any man to use it, al- 
beit, it be very cleane washed : for he to whome 
thou doest offer it, can not (perhaps) awaye w* 
it, and may be to curious to take it. 

When a man talketh with one, it is no good 
maner to come so neere, that he must needes 
breathe in his face : for there be many that can not 
abide to feele the ayer of another mans breathe, 
albeit there come no ill savour from him. These 
and like fashions, be very unsemely, and would be 
eschewed, because their senses, w^ whome we ac- 
quaint our selves, cannot brooke nor bearethem. 

Now, let us speake of those things which (with- 
out any hurt or anoyaunce to the senses) offende 
the minds of most men, before whome they be 
doone. You shall understand, that The appetites 
of men, (throughe a naturall instincft and inclina- 
tion) be verie strange and divers: Some be chol- 
erike & hasty, & may not be satisfied with out 
revenge: other doe give them selves cleane over, 
to pamper the belly: this man sets his delighte 
in lust and sensualitie: that man is carried away 
with his covetous desires: and many suche appe- 
tites more there are, to which mans minde is too 
subjecft : but you shall not in any company, easily 

2j? 



Galateo judge or discerne betweene them, where and in 
what, they bee moste afFecfted. For, these matters 
doe not consist in the maners, the fashions and 
speache of men: but rest in some other point. 
They seeke to purchase y^ which the benefit of 
mutuall conferrence may yeald them, 6c that 
doe (as I weene) good will, honour, comforte and 
pleasure, or some other thing like unto these: & 
therfore we must neither say or doe the thing, 
that may give anysigne of litle loving or estem- 
ing them, we live withall. 

So that, it is a rude fashion, (in my conceipte) 
y^ som men use, to lie lolling a sleepe in that 
place, where honest men be met together, of pur- 
pose to talke. For his so doing, shewes that he doth 
not esteeme the company, and little rekoneth of 
them or their talke. And more then that, he that 
sleepeth (and specially lying at litle ease, as he 
must) wonts (for the moste parte) to doe some 
fowle thing, to beholde, or heare: and many times 
they awake sweating and driveling at the mouth. 
And in like maner, to rise up where other men 
doe sit and talke, and to walke up and downe the 
chamber, it is no point of good maner. Also there 
be some that so buskell them selves, reache, 
streatch and yawne, writhing now one side, and 
then another, that a man would weene, they had 
some fever uppon them: A manifest signe, that 
the company they keepe, doth weary them. 

Likewise doe they very ill, y* now & then pull 
26 



out a letter out of their pocket, to reade it: as if Of Man- 
they had greate matters of charge, and affaires ners and 
of the common weale committed unto them. But Behav- 
they are much more to bee blamed, that pull out ^ours 
their knives or their scisers, and doe nothing els 
but pare their nailes, as if they made no account at 
all of the company, and would seeke some other 
solace to passe the time awaye. Theis fashions to, 
must be left, y^ some men use, to sing betwene 
the teeth, or playe the dromme with their fin- 
gers, or shoofle their feete: For these demeanours 
shewe that a body is carelesse of any man ells. 

Besides, let not a man so sit that he turne his 
taile to him that sitteth next to him: nor lie tot- 
tering with one legg so high above the other, that 
a man may see all bare that his cloathes would 
cover. For such parts be never p lay de, but amongst 
those to whome a man needs use no reverence. It 
is very true, that if a gentleman should use these 
fashions before his servants, or in the presence 
of some friende of meaner condition then him 
selfe: it would betoken no pride, but a love and 
familiaritie. 

Let a man stand uppright of him selfe, and not 
leane or loll uppon another mans shoulder: and 
when he talketh, let him not pounche his fellow 
with his elbowe, (as many be wont to doe) at 
every worde they speake, saying: "Did I not say 
true Sirra. Master. N. It is Master. H." And still 
they be jotting with their elbowe. 

27 



Galateo I would have every man well appareled, meete 
for his age and calling: for otherwise, they seeme 
to have men in contempt that be better attired 
then themselves. 

And therefore the Citizens of Padua, were woont 
to take it done of spighte unto them, when any 
gentleman of Venice walked up & downe their 
citie in his coate, as though he thought him selfe 
in the countrey. And a mans apparell, would not 
be made of fine cloathe alone: but he must frame 
it, all that he may, to the fashions that other men 
weare, and suffer him selfe to bee lead by com- 
mon use: although (perchaunce) it be, and seeme 
to be lesse commodious, lesse gallant, and lesse 
faire in shewe, then his oulde. 

And if all men els, doe weare their heads powled: 
it shalbe an ill sight for thee alone, to weare a 
longe bushe of haire. And where other men, make 
muche of their beardes and weare them longe: 
thou shalt not doe well to cut thine of, or shave 
it. For that weare to be overthwarte in every- 
thing: which thou must (in any case) beware of, 
except necessitie require it, as thou shalt heare 
hereafter. For this singularitie, beyond all other ill 
customes, makes us generally spited of all men. 
Thou must not then go against common custome 
in these things, but use them measureably : that 
thou maist not bee an odd man alone in a coun- 
trey: that shall weare a long Gowne downe to 
the foote, where other men weare them very 
28 



shorte, litle beneath the waste. For as it hapens Of Man- 
to him, that hath a very crabbed ilfavoured face, ners and 
(I meane suche, as is more harde and sower then Behav- 
most mennes be, for nature doth mostly shape ^o^^s 
them well in moste men) that men will wonder 
and (with a kinde of admiration) gape most up- 
pon him: So fares it with them that attire them 
selves, not as most men doe: but as they are egged 
by their owne fantasticall heads, with long heare 
spred downe to their shoulders, their beardes 
short and shaven, and weare quaiues or greate 
cappes after y^ Flaundres fashion: that all men 
doe gaze uppon them, as wondering at suche, 
whome they weene have taken uppon them, to 
conquer all countries wheresoever they come. 
Let your apparell then, be very well made, and 
fit for your body: for they that weare rich and 
coastly garments, but so illfavouredly shaped, 
that a man would weene the measure had bin 
taken by another: geve us to judge one of these 
twaine, that either they have no regarde or con- 
sideration how to please or displease: or els have 
no skill to judge of measure or grace, or what doth 
become them. 

Such maner of people, with their rude behav- 
iours and fashions, make men with whome they 
live, suspecft, they doe esteeme them but light. 
And that causeth them worse welcome wherso- 
ever they com and ill beloved amongest men. 

But there be some besides these, that deserve 

29 



Galateo more then bare suspicion: their deeds and their 
doings be so intollerable, that a man cannot abide 
to live amongest them by any meanes. For they 
be ever a let, a hurt and a trouble to all the com- 
panie, they benever redie: ever a trimming: never 
well dressed to their mindes. But when men be 
readie to sit downe to the table, the meate at the 
boorde, and their handes washed : then they must 
write or make water, or have their exercise to doe : 
saying, "It is too early: we might have taried 
a while: what haste is this, this morning?" And 
thus they disquiet all the company, as men, car- 
ing for them selves alone & their owne matters, 
without consideration in the worlde of other men. 
Besides this, they will in all things be preferred 
above others : they must have the best bed, and 
best chamber: they must take uppon them the 
highest place at the table, and be first set and 
served of all men. And they be so deintie and 
nice, that nothing pleaseth them, but what they 
them selves devise: they make a sower face at any 
thingells. And they besoproudeminded, that they 
looke that men should waite uppon them when 
they dine, ride, sporte, or solace them selves. 

There be other so furious, testie & waywarde, 
that nothing you doe can please them: and what 
soever is said they aunswer in choler, and never 
leave brauling w^ their servants, and rayling at 
them, and continually disturbe the company with 
their unquietnes:usingsuchspeeches:"ThoucauI- 
30 



edst me well up this morning. Looke heere how Of Man- 
cleane thou hast made these pynsons. Thou ners and 
beaste, thou diddest waite well uppon me to Behav- 
Churche. It were a good deede to breake thy iours 
head." These be unsemely and very fowle fash- 
ions: suche as every honest man will hate to 
death. For, albeit a mans minde were full fraught 
with all humilitie, and would use these maners, not 
uppon pride or disdaine, but uppon a rechelesse 
care, not heeding his doings, or elles by meanes 
of ill custome: yet notwithstanding, because his 
outward doings, woulde make men thinke him 
proude: it cannot be chosen, but all men woulde 
hate him for it. For, Pride is none other thinge, 
then to despise and disdaine another. And as I 
have saide from the beginning: Eache man de- 
sireth to bee well thought of. Albeit there bee no 
valoure or goodnes in him. 

It is not long, since there was in Rome a worthy 
gentleman, of singular good witt and profound 
learning, whose name was Ubaldino Bandinelli. 
This gentleman was woont to say, that as ofte 
as hee went or came from the Courte, although 
the stretes weare ever full of gallant Courtiers, of 
Prelates and Noble men, and likewise of poore 
men, and people of meane and base condition: 
yet he thought he never encountred any, that 
was either better or worse then himselfe. And 
without doubte hee could meete with fewe, that 
might bee compared in goodnes to him : respecft- 

31 



Galateo ing his vertues, that did excel beyond measure. 
But we must not alwayes in these things mea- 
sure men by y^ Elne: We must rather waye them 
in the millers scoles, then in the goldsmythes 
balaunce. And it is a courtious parte, redily to 
receave them in to favour: not by cause they bee 
woorthe it: but as men doe with coines, by cause 
they be currant. 

To go further, wee must doe nothing in their 
sight whome wee desire to please, that may 
shewe wee covet, rather to rule and to reigne, then 
to live in a familiar equalitie amongest them.. For 
hautines of harte and ambitious disposition, as 
it kindleth an ill opinion: so it ministreth muche 
cause of contempte, which in conclusion will so 
woorke against thee, y* thou shalt bee cleane 
castout of honest company. But our dooings must 
rather beare a signe and shewe of reverence, 
meekenes, & respecfl to y^ company, in which 
wee fellowship ourselves. So that, what so ever is 
doone inmeeteand convenient time, may hapely 
deserve no blame: but yet in respecft of the place 
and the persone, it may be reproved well: al- 
thoughe for it self, y^ matter deserve no rebuke. 
As to brawle and to raile at your servaunts (which 
we have talked of before) but muche more to 
beate them. Because these partes, are asmuche 
as to reigne and to rule: which no honest and civil 
gentleman will use, in presence of them he doth 
respedt with any reverence or courtesie. Besides 
32 



this, the company is muche offended with it, and Of Man- 
their meetinges are broken, and especially, if it be ners and 
done at the table, which is a place of solace and Behav- 
mirthe, and not of brawle and scolding. So that lours 
I must nedes commend Currado Gianfigliazzi for 
his civil behaviour in y^ he multiplied no words 
with Chichibio to trouble his guests: albeit he 
deserved to be sharply punished for it, when 
he would sooner displease his master then Bru- 
netta. And yet if Currado had made lesse adoe 
about it then he did: it had ben more his praise. 
For then he should never have neded, to call 
uppon God, to witnes his threatnings so muche 
as he did. 

But to returne to our matter: it is not good for 
a man to chide at the table for any cause. And 
if thou be angrie, shew it not, nor make no signe 
of thy greefe, for the reason I have tolde thee, 
and specially if thou have straungers with thee: 
because thou haste called them to be merry, and 
this wil make them sad. For, as the sharpe and 
tarte things y* other men doe feede uppon in thy 
sight, doe set thy teeth likewise on edge : so to see 
other men vexed and out of quiet, it maketh us 
unquiet too. I call them Fromward people, which 
will in allthings be overtwhart to other men : as 
the very worde it selfe doth shewe. For, Frome- 
warde, signifieth asmuche, as Shorne against the 
wooll. Now, how fit a thinge this frowardnes is, 
to win the good will of men, and cause men to 

3^^ 



Galateo wishe well unto them: that you your self may 
easily Judge, in that it consisteth in overtwharting 
other mens desiers: which qualitie never main- 
teineth friendship, but maketh friends become 
foes. And therfor let them that desire to be well 
thought of and welcome amongst men, endev- 
our them selves to shunne this fault: For it breedes 
no good liking nor love, but hatred and hurt. I 
would councell you rather to measure your plea- 
sures by other mens willes : where there shal come 
no hurt nor shame of it: and therin alwayes to 
doe & to saye, more to please other mens mindes 
and fansies, then your owne. 

Againe, you must be neither clownishe nor 
lumpishe: but pleasaunt and familiar. For there 
should bee no oddes,betweene the My stell and the 
Pungitopo: but that the one is wilde: the other 
growes in gardens. And you must understand, 
that he is pleasaunt and courteous : whose man- 
ners bee suche in his common behaviour, as prac- 
tise to keepe, and maintaine him friendeship 
amongst them: where hee that is solleyne and 
way warde, makes him selfe a straunger wherso- 
ever hee comes: a straunger, I meane, asmuch as 
a forreigne or alienborne: where contrariwise, he 
that is familiar & gentle, in what place so ever he 
comes: is taken for a familiar and friend with all 
men. So that it shalbe necessarie for a man, to 
use him selfe to salute, to speake, and to answer 
after a gentle sorte, and to behave him selfe w^all 
34 



men so: as if hee were their countryman borne. Of Man- 
& of their olde acquaintance. Which some can ill ners and 
skill to doe, that never give a man a goodcounte- Behav- 
naunce : easily say, No, to all things : never take in iours 
good worthe, the honour and courtesie that men 
doe unto them (like to the people I spake of be- 
fore, rude and barbarous) : never take delight in 
any pleasaunt conceites or other pleasures: but 
ever refuse it all, what soever is presented or of- 
fered unto them. If a man say: "Sir, suche a one 
willed me to commend him unto you:" They 
aunswere straite: "what have I too doe with his 
greetings?" And if a man say: "Sir, suche a one 
your friend, asked me how you did." They aun- 
swer againe in choler: "Let him come feele my 
pulse." These carterlike and clownishe aunswers 
and maners, and the men them selves that doe 
use them : would bee chased and hunted away, 
out of all good and honest company. 

It ill becomes a man when hee is in company, 
to bee sad, musing, and full of contemplation. And 
albeit, it may bee suffered perchaunce in them 
that have long beaten their braines in these 
Mathematicall studies : which are called (as I take 
it) the Liberall Artes: yet without doubte it may 
not be borne in other men. For, even these stu- 
dious fellowes, at suche time, when they be so 
ful of their Muses : should be much wiser to get 
them selves alone. 

Againe, to bee to nice or to deintie: it may not 

55 



Galateo be abiden, and specially in men. For, to live with 
suche kinde of people: is rather a slaverie then 
pleasure. And sure there bee som such, so softe & 
tender: y^ to live and deale with such people, it is 
as daungerous : as to medle with the finest and 
brittelest glasse that may be: So muche they are 
affraide of every light touche. And they wilbe as 
testy and frowarde, if you doe not quickly and 
readily salute them, visite them, worship them, 
and make them answer: as some other body 
would be, for the greatest injurie y^can be donne 
unto them. And if you doe not give them all 
the due reverence that may be: they will pres- 
ently take a thousand occasions to quarell and fall 
out with you. If you chaunce to Master him, and 
leave out his title of Honour or worship: he takes 
that in dougeon, and thinkes you doe mock him. 
And if you set him beneath as good a man as him 
self at the table: that is against his honour. If you 
doe not visite him at home at his house: then you 
knowe not your dutie. Theis maner of fashions and 
behaviours, bring men to such scorne and disdainie 
of their doings : that there is no man, almost, can 
abide to beholde them : for they love them selves 
to farre beyonde measure, and busie them selves 
so much in that, that they fmde litle leisure to 
bethinke them selves to love any other: which 
(as I have saide from the beginning) men seeke to 
fmde in the conditions and maners of those with 
whome they must live : I meane, that they should 

36 



apply them selves to the fansies & mindes of their Of Man- 
friendes. But to live w* suche people, so hard to ners and 
please: whose love and friendship once wonne,is Behav- 
as easily lost, as a fine scarfe is lightly caried away iours 
with the winde: that is no life but a service: and, 
besides that ityealdeth no pleasure, it geves a man 
greate disdaine and horror. Let us therefore leave 
these softe and wanton behaviours to women. 

In speach a man may fault many wayes. And 
first in the matter it selfe that is in talke, which 
may not be vaine or filthye. For, they that doe 
heare it, will not abide it: as y^ talk they take no 
pleasure to heare: but rather scorne the speache 
and the speaker both. Againe, a man must not 
move any question of matters that be to deepe 
& to subtile: because it is hardly understoode of 
the moste. And a man must warely foresee, that 
the matter bee suche, as none of the company may 
blushe to heare it, or receave any shame by the 
tale. Neither must he talke of any filthy matter, 
albeit a man would take a pleasure to heare it: 
for, it ill becomes an honest gentleman, to seeke 
to please, but in things that be honest. 

Neither in sporte nor in earnest, must a man 
speake any thing against God or his Saintes, 
how witty or pleasaunt so ever the matter be. 
Wherein, the company that Giovan Boccaccio 
hathe brought to speake in his Novelles and tales, 
hath faulted so muche: that me thinkes every 
good body , may justly blame them for it. And you 

3>7 



Galateo must thinke It is not only a token of great detesta- 
tion & Impietie in a man, to talke in jestinge wise 
of God : but hee is a wicked & sinfull man, that will 
abide to heare it. But you shall finde some suche 
good men, as will flie asmuche as the plague, the 
company of such as talke so unreverently, and 
without respecft, of the incomprehensible Majes- 
tie of God. And wee must not alone speake reli- 
giously of him: but in all our talkes wee must 
avoide what wee may, that our wordes may not 
witnes against our life and our workes. For men 
doe hate their owne faultes otherwhile, when they 
see them in another. 

Likewise it is unsavourie, to talke of things out 
of time, not fitting the place and company: al- 
though the matter it selfe, and spoken in time, 
were otherwise both good and godly. We must 
not then reherse Friers sermones to young gentle- 
women, when they are disposed to sporte them 
selves: as y* good man did, that dwelles not farr 
hence, nere to S. Brancatio. And in feastes & at ta- 
ble, wee must beware wee doe not rehearse any 
sorowfull tales, nor put them in minde of woundes, 
of sicknes, of deathes, of Plagues, or of other dole- 
full matters. But if another man chaunce to move 
suche matter: it shalbe good, after an honest and 
gentell sorte, to exchaunge that talke, and thrust 
in some other, y^ may give them more delighte 
and pleasure to heare it. Albeit, not long since I 
heard it said to a worthy gentleman our neigh- 

38 



hour, that Men have many times more neede Of Man- 
to weepe then to laugh. And for that cause hee ners and 
said, these dolefull tales, which weecall Tragedies, Behav- 
were devised at first, that when they were playd lotirs 
in the Theatres (as at that time they were wont) 
they might draw fourth teares out of their eyes, 
that had neede to spend them. And so they were 
by their weeping, healed of their infirmitie. But al- 
beit it bee good to doe so: yet it will il become us 
to drive men into their dumpes: especially where 
they bee mett to feaste and to solace themselves, 
& not to mourne. For if there be any, y^ hath suche 
weeping disease: it will bee an easie matter to cure 
it, w^ stronge Mustard or a smoaky house. So that, 
in no wise, I can excuse our friend Philostrato, for 
his worke that hee made full of duleand of death, 
to suche a company as desired nothing more then 
mirthe. Wee must the rather use silence, then dis- 
course of suche sorrowfull matters. 

And they doe asmuche amisse too, that never 
have other thing in their mouthe, then their chil- 
dren, their wife, and their nourse. '*My litle boy, 
made mee so laughe yesterday : heare you : you 
never sawe a sweeter babe in your life: my wife is 
such a one, Cecchina told mee : of troth you would 
not beleeve whata wit shee hath:" There is none 
so idle a body, that will either intend to answer, 
or abide to heare suche foolishe prittle prattle. For 
it ircks a mans eares to harken unto it. 

There be some againe, so curious in telling their 

39 



Galateo dreames from point to point, using such wonder 
and admiration withall, y* it makes a mans hart 
ake to heare them : & specially because (for y® 
most parte) they be such kinde of people: as it is 
but labour lost to heare, even the very best ex- 
ploits they doe, when they be most awake, and la- 
bour most to shew their best. Wherfore we must 
not trouble men with so base and absurde matter 
as dreames bee: especially suche foolishe things, 
as most times men have. Albeit I have heard say 
many times, that wisemen in times past, have leaft 
in their bookes many sortes of dreames, contein- 
ing matters of deepe knowledge and understand- 
ing: it followeth not yet, that wee, the unlearned 
and common sorte of people, should use it in our 
familiar and common talke. And sure of all the 
dreames that ever I heard (albeit I hardly listen 
to any) in my conceit, I never heard any, that 
was worth the hearing but one alone, which the 
good Master Flaminio Tomarozzo a gentleman of 
Rome did see, a man not unlearned and grosse: 
but full of knowledge and singular witte. And thus 
was his dreame,This gentleman Master Flaminio 
Tomarozzo, thought he was sitting in a very riche 
Apothecaries shop, a neere neighbour of his. And 
after he had bin there a while (what soever the 
occasion was) the people were up in a rore one a 
sodaine, and fell to spoiling of all that was in the 
shoppe. One tooke an Elecftuarie, another a Con- 
fection, some one thing, some another, and pres- 
40 



ently eate it upp all: So that within a while, there Of Man- 
was neither virell glasse, ertherne pot, wodden ners and 
boxe,noranypotelsofdrugges,thatwasnotemp- Behav- 
tied broken, or overthrowne. But amongest them loci's 
all, ther was one verye small glasse,full to the toppe 
of verie cleare water, which many did smell to, but 
no man would taste. He stoode not there long, but 
there came in a tall man, an aged and very grave 
man, to look unto. This Aged father beholding this 
unfortunate Apothecaries boxes and pottes, and 
finding some emptied, some overthrowne, and the 
better parte broken: At lenght casting his eye 
aside, he chaunced to see the smal glasse I spake 
of before, and setting the same to his mouthe,hee 
dranke it up so cleane: that he leaft not one droppe. 
And this doone, he went* from thence as the rest 
did before. Master Flaminio was abashed and mar- 
veled muche at this matter. And therefore turning 
to the Apothecarie he saied unto him: Sir, whoe 
is this that came laste? and why did he drinke up 
so savourly , all the water in that litle glasse, which 
all the reast refused. To whome the Apothecarie 
seemed to make this auns wer. My sonne, this is the 
Lord God. And the water, that hee alone dranke, 
and all the reast refused and would not taste as 
you saw: was discretion: which, you know wel 
ynough men will not taste of, by any meanes. 
Such kind of dreames, I hould well a man may re- 
hearse, and heare with much pleasure and profit. 
Bycause they doe more resemble, the Cogitations 

41 



Galateo & thoughts of an awakened minde: or better, I 
shoulde say, the vertue sensitive: then the vis- 
ions and sights of a drowsie head. But those other 
dreames, without shape, fashion or sense: (which 
the moste parte of suche men as we are, bee 
wont to have) would be forgotten cleane, and lost 
with our sleepe. Howbeit, I doe not deny but the 
dreames of good men and learned, be better and 
wiser than theires of the wicked and more un- 
learned sorte. 

And albeit a man would weene, there can bee 
nothing in the worlde more vaine then Dreames: 
yet there is one thing more light then they, and 
that are Lies. For there is yet some shadowe, and, 
as it were, a certaine feeling of that which a man 
hath seene in his dreame. But there is neither shad- 
owe norbodyeof atruethin a lie. And therforewe 
should lesse busie mens eares, and their mindes 
to harken to lies, then to dreames, because they 
bee otherwhile received for truethes. But time, in 
the ende, discovers suche pelfe: that Hers, not only 
doe gaine no credite, but no man vouchesafes to 
harken unto them, in otherwise (as the men tliat 
carry no substaunce in their woordes) then if they 
had saide nothing or blowne a litle winde. And 
you shal understand, ther be many y* use to lie, 
not minding any ill purpose in it, or to make their 
owne peculiar profFit by it, to hurt other men or 
shame their neighbour: onely they doe it, for a 
pleasure they take to tell a lie: as men that drinke 
42 



not, all for thirst: but for a pleasure they take, to Of Man- 
taste of the wine. Other some doe tell lies, to make ners and 
a vaine glorious boasting of them selves: vaunt- Behav- 
ing and telling in a bravery, what wonderfull ex- ^o^^s 
ploits they have doone, or bearing men in hand, 
they be greate docftours and learned men. 

In Silence too, after a sorte, without speache, a 
man may tell a lesinge: I meane with his gestures 
and grace: as some you shall see, that being of 
meane, or rather base condition and calling, use 
suche a solemnitie in all their doings, and marche 
so stately, and speake with suche a prerogative, 
or rather discourse like Parleament men, setteling 
them selves, as it were, in a place of Judgement, 
proudly prying about them like Peacockes: that 
it is a very death to behold them. 

And some suche you shall finde, that allthough 
they bee combered with no more wealthe then 
easily serves their turne: yet will they never ap- 
peare unles their neckes be laden with chaines, 
their fingers full of rings, their cappes beset with 
agletts, and every other parte bespangled, as 
though they would defie y® K^ing of Castiglio. 
Whose behaviours be full of follies and vaine glo- 
rie, which cometh of pride, growing of vanitie it 
selfe. So that wee must eschew these faults, as 
foule and unseemely things. You shall understand, 
in many Cities, and those of the best, the lawes doe 
not suffer, that riche men should go muche more 
gorgeously attired, then the poore. For poore men 

43 



Galateo thinke they have a wrong: when men seeme,but 
in countenaunce alone, as it were Imperiously 
to reigne over them. So that we must carefully 
beware we fall not into these follies. 

Neither must a man boaste of his Nobilitie, his 
Honour or riches: muche lesse vaunt of his witt, 
or gloriously reherse to much of his deedes 6c val- 
iant Acftes, or what his Auncestors have done, nor 
uppon every occasion, fall in rehersall of suche 
thinges, as many men doe. For in suche case, a 
man would weene, they seeke, either to contend 
with the Company, (if they be, or will take uppon 
them to bee, as good Gentlemen, & of as muche 
wealthe and worthines, as they bee:) or elles to 
overcrowe them, (if they live in meaner condi- 
tion and calling, then they doe) And as it were to 
upbraide them, their poore and base condition of 
life. 

A man must neither embase, nor exalte him selfe 
to muche out of measure: but rather bury in si- 
lence some parte of his merits, then arrogate to 
muche unto him.Bycause Goodnes it selfe, when 
it excedeth muche, is ever envide of some. And 
you may be sure, they that embase them selves 
thus beyond measure, refusing that worship and 
honour that is but duely their owne of very right: 
shewe more pride in this contempte, then they 
that usurpe those things, that are not so due unto 
them. So y^ a man perchaunce, might saye, Giotto 
hath not deserved those Commendations y* some 
44 



beleve, in y* he refused to be called Master: be- Of Man- 
ing not only a master but without doubt a singu- ners and 
lar and cunning master in his art in those dayes. Behav- 
But be it blame, or praise y^ he deserved: it is loci's 
most sure, he that refuseth that which every man 
els doth hunt for: sheweththerin,he reproveth or 
contemneth the common opinion of men. And, 
to contemne the honour & renowne, which other 
men gape for so much, is but to glorie and mag- 
nifie him selfe above other. For asmuche as there 
is no man (without he be mad) will refuse and 
rejecft things that be deare and of price: unles 
hee be suche, as hathe plenty and store of those 
deare and deintie things. 

Wee must not boast of those good things that 
be in us, nor set them to light: for in y^ one, wee 
doe upbraide men their faults : In the other, wee 
scorne to muche their vertues. But it behoveth 
every man to speake his owne praise, as litle as 
hee may. And if occasion drive him unto it: it 
shalbe good, modestly to speake the truethe, as 
I have told you before. 

And therefore, they that desire to doe men a 
pleasure: must needes leave one faulte, y^ is 
to common with all men: they must not shewe 
them selves so afraide and fearefull to speake 
their mindes, when a man dothe aske their advise. 
For, it is a deadly paine to here them, & specialy 
ff they be men, in y^ judge ment of y® world, of 
good understanding and wisedome. What a fetch- 

4^ 



Galateo ing about is this, ere they come to y® mater? Sir I 
beseche you pardon mee, if I doe not say well. I 
will speake like a gros man as I am: & grosly ac- 
cording to my pore skil. And Sir, I am sure you will 
but mocke me for it. But yet, to obey you: & they 
drawe their words forth so long, & put them selves 
to suche paine: y\ while these ceremonies be a 
doing, y^ hardest question y* is, might have bin 
determined with fewer words and shorter time: 
bycause they cannot get out of these protesta- 
tions, when they bee in. 

They bee also very tedious to men, and their 
conversation & maners are very troublesome: 
whoe shewe too base and abjecft a minde in 
their doings. And where the chefest and highest 
place, is apparantly due unto them: they will ever 
creepe downe to the lowest. And it is a spitefull 
buisines to thrust them up: For they will straite 
jogge backe againe, like a resty jade, or a Nagge 
that startleth a side at his shadowe. So that, there 
is muche a dooe w* them, when wee meete at a 
doore. For they will not (for all you can dooe) in 
any case enter before you, but so traverse their 
ground, go backe, and so fray and defend with 
their armes and their handes: that at every thirde 
steppe, a man must be ready to wage battel! 
with them: and thus they breake of, all solace and 
pleasure,andotherwhile, the buisines they meete 
aboute. 

And therfore, Ceremonies, which wee name, as 
46 



you heare, by a straunge terme, as lacking a worde Of Man- 
of our owne,bycause our elders, having no know- ners and 
ledge of those superstitious fashions, coulde not Behav- 
well give them a proper name. Ceremonies, I ^^^^^ 
saye, (in my Judgement,) differ not much from 
lies 6c dreames, for their own very vainesse it 
selfe. So that wee may couple and joine them to- 
gether in this our treatise, sithe occasion serves so 
fitt to speake of them here. As a good man hath 
often shewed me: those solemnities that church 
men doe use at their Altars, and in their divine ser- 
vice bothe to God and his holy things, are prop- 
erly called Ceremonies : but after, men did begin, 
to reverence eche other with curious entertaine- 
ments,more then were convenient, and would be 
called masters and Lords, amongest them selves, 
yealding bending, and bowing their bodies, in to- 
ken of reverence one to another, uncovering their 
heads, using highe titles and Styles of honour, and 
kissing their hands as if they were hollye things: 
some body, by like considering all these things 
well, and finding these newe founde curious fol- 
lies without any name: thought good to Christen 
and call them Ceremonies, but sure in a jest as I 
take it: as to be mery and make good cheare, we 
terme it in sport, a triumph: which custome, no 
doubt, tooke not his being at us, but elles where, 
as barbarous & straunge: and not long since, from 
whence I knowe not, transported into Italie: whose 
deedes being wretched, and eifecfts base and vile. 

47 



Galateo hath gotten encrease and honor, in vaine woords 
alone, and superfluous titles. 

Ceremonies then, if we consider well their in- 
tents that use them: are but vaine shewes of hon- 
our and reverence, towardes him to whome they 
be doone: framed of semblance and wordes touch- 
ing their titles and courtious offers. I say vaine: In 
that we honour men to their face, whome we rev- 
erence not in deede, but otherwhile contemne. 
And nevertheles, because we may not go against 
custome, wee give them these titles : The most 
honorable Lord suche a one : the Noble Lord suche 
a one. And so otherwhile wee offer them our hum- 
ble service: whome wee could better unserve then 
serve, & commaund then doe them any duety. 

Then not Lesinges alone, but also Treacheries 
and Treasons, shalbe called Ceremonies. But be- 
cause these wordes and these titles above re- 
hersed, have lost their strength: and waste, (as a 
man may say of Iron) their temper, w^ such con- 
tinuall occupying of it as it we doe use: we must 
not so precisely way them as other words, nor so 
strictly construe the meaning of them. And, that 
this is true, that which allwayes happens to all 
men, dothe shewe it plaine inoughe. For if wee 
meete with a man, we never sawe before: with 
whome, uppon some occasion, it behoves us to 
talke: without examining wel his worthines, most 
commonly, that wee may not offend in to litle, we 
give him to much, and call him Gentleman, and 
48 



otherwhile Sir, althoughe he be but some Souter Of Man- 
or Barbar, or other suchestufFe: and all bycause he ners and 
is appareled neate, somewhat gentleman like. Behav- 

And as men in times past, were wont to have lo^rs 
under the Privilege of the Pope & Emperour, pe- 
culiar & distincft titles of honour, which might not 
be untouched, without doing wrong to the privi- 
leged men : nor againe attributed & geven without 
a scorne, to them that were no such privileged per- 
sones : So at this daye, wee must more freely use 
those titles, and the other significations of honour, 
like to those titles: bycause Custome the mightiest 
Lorde, hathe largely therewith, privileged men 
of our time. 

This use and custome, then so faire and gallant 
without, is altogether vaine within, and consisteth 
in semblance without effecft, & in wordes without 
meaning. But this notwithstanding, it is not law- 
ful for us to chaunge it : but rather, bycause it is not 
our fault, but the fault of our time, wee are bounde 
to followe it: but yet wee must discretely doe it. 

So that wee are to noate, that Ceremonies are 
used, either for a Profit, or for a Vanitie, or for a 
Duetie. And every lie that is told for a mans pri- 
vate profit: is a deceite, a sinne, and a dishonest 
parte: for, in what so ever it bee, A man can 
never honestly lie. , 

And this is a common fault with flatterers, that 
counterfet them selves to be our friendes, and 
apply them selves ever to our desiers, what so- 

49 



Galateo ever they be: not by cause wee would have it so, 
but to the ende wee should doe them some plea- 
sure, for it. And this is not to please us, but to 
deceive us. And albeit this kind of fault be, per- 
ad venture, by reason of custome sufferable: yet 
notwithstanding bycause of it selfe,it is fowleand 
hurtefull,it ill becomes a gentle man to doe it. For 
it is no honestie to seeke a pleasure by the hurt 
of another. And if lies and false flatteries, may bee 
termed Ceremonies (as I have saide before:) so oft, 
as we use them for respecft of our gain & profit: 
so oft wee doe hazard our good name and cred- 
ite: so that this consideration alone, might move 
us well to leave all Ceremonies, and use them no 
more. 

It resteth now that I speake of those y* bee done 
of Dutie, and of those that be done of a Vainesse. 
As touching y® first, We must not leave them un- 
done in any wise. For he that faileth to doe them, 
dothe not onely displease, but doth a wrong to 
him, to whome they be due. And many times it 
chauncethy* men come to daggers drawing, even 
for this occasion alone, that one man hath not 
done the other, that worship and honour uppon the 
way, that he ought. For to saye a trueth The power 
of custome is great & of much force, (as I said) and 
would be taken for a lawe, in these cases. And that 
is the cause we say: You: to every one, that is not 
a man of very base calling, and in suche kinde of 
speach wee yealde such a one, no maner of cour- 
30 



tesie of our owne. But if wee say : Thou : to suche Of Man- 
a one, then wee disgrace him and offer him out- ners and 
rage and wronger and by suche speach, seeme to Behav- 
make no better reconing of him, then of a knave lo^^s 
and a clowne. 

And although the times past, and other coun- 
tries, have used other maners: let us yet, keepe 
ourselves to our owne: And let not us dispute the 
matter, which is thebetter of twaine. For wee must 
observe, not those, that we Judge in our owne con- 
ceits to be good: but suche, as be currant by cus- 
tome, & used in our owne time: as lawes, which 
we be bound to keepe, thoughe they be not all 
of the best, till suche time, as the magistrates, the 
Prince, or they that have power to amend them, 
have chaunged them to better. 

So that It behoves us, hedefully to marke the 
doings and speache, wherewith daily pracftise and 
custome, wonteth to receave, salute, & name in 
our owne country, all sortes and kinds of people, 
and in all our familiar communication with men, 
let us use the same. And notwithstanding the Ad- 
merall (as perad venture the maner of his time was 
suche) in his talke with Peter the King of Ara- 
gon, did many times : Thou him : Let us yet saye 
to our King: Your majestie: and your highnes: 
aswell in speache as in writing. And if they have 
followed the use of their time: then let not us 
breake the fashions of ours. And these doe I call 
Duetifull Ceremonies, bycause they proceede 



Galateo not, as we would, or of our owne free willes : but 
are laide uppon us by the Lawes: I meane. Com- 
mon custome. 

And in suche things, as carry no evill rheaning 
in them, but rather some face of courtesie: reason 
would and commaundeth, we shoulde rather ob- 
serve common Custome, then dispute and lay the 
lawe for them. 

And albeit, to kisse in shewe of reverence, of 
very right appertaineth to the reliques of Saints 
and there holy matters : yet if it bee the maner 
of your country, at parting, to say: Signori, lo vi 
bascio la mano. Or: lo son vostro servidore: Or 
els: vostro schiavo in catena: you must not dis- 
daine it, more then other. But, In farewelles and 
writings, you must salute and take leave, not as 
reason, but as custome will have you: and not as 
men wont in times past, or should doe: but as men 
use at this day: for it is a chorlishe maner to say: 
What greate gentleman is he I pray you, that I 
must master him: Or: is he becom master parson, 
that I must kisse his hands? for he that is wont to 
be (Sird) and likewise (Sirreth) other: may thinke 
you disdaine him, and use some outrage unto him, 
when you call him to his face, by his bare name, 
and give him no addition. 

And these termes of Seignory , service, & duetye, 

and such other like unto these, as I have saide: 

have lost a greate parte of their harshnes,and (as 

hearbes long steepte in the water) are sweetened, 

51 



and made softe and tender, by reason of muche Of Man- 
speache in mens mouthes, and continuall use to ners and 
speake them. So that we must not abhorre them, Behav- 
as some rude and rusticall fellowes, full of foolishe iours 
simplicitie, doe: that would faine beginnethe let- 
ters we write to Kinges and Emperours after this 
sort, vz. If thou and thy children be in healthe it is 
well: I am also in healthe: saying, that suche was 
the beginning of the letters, the Latins did write 
to the magistrates of Rome. If men should live 
by their measure, and go backe to those fashions 
and maners, our first fathers did use: the worlde 
then by litle and litle, would come so about, that 
we should feede uppon acornes againe. 

And in these Duetifull Ceremonies, there be 
also certain rules and precepts, we must observe: 
that wee may not bee touched w^ Vainesse and 
Pride. And firstof all, wee must consider the coun- 
try where wee doe live. For all customes be not 
currant a like in all countreys. And peradventure 
that which they use in Naples, which is a Citye 
replenished with gentlemen, of good houses, and 
Lordes of greate power, were not so fitte for Flor- 
ens and Luke: Which are inhabited, for the most 
part, with Merchants and plaine gentlemen, with- 
out any Prince, Marques, or Barone amongest 
them. So that the brave and Lordelike manners 
of the gentlemen of Naples transported to Flor- 
ence: should be but waste, and more thenneedes: 
like a tall mans gowne cast over a dwarfe: as also 

^3 



Galateo the manners of Florence shoulde be to pinchinge 
and straite, for the Npble natures and mindes of 
the gentlemen of Naples. And although the gen- 
tlemen of Venice use great embracings and en- 
tertainementes amongst themselves, and fawne 
without measure the one on the other, by reason 
of their offices, degrees and favours they looke to 
finde when they meete and assemble to choose 
their officers: yet for all this, it is not convenient, 
that the good men of Rouigo, or the Citizens of 
Asolo, should use the like solemnities, embrace- 
ings and entertainements one to another, have- 
ing no such kinde of cause amongst them: Albeit 
all that same countrie (if I bee not deceived) is 
falne a litle, into these kinde of follies, as over care- 
lesseand apt inough by nature, or rather learning 
those maners of Venice their Lady and Mistris: 
because Everie man gladly seeketh to tread the 
steps of his better: although there be no reason 
for it. 

Moreover we must have a regarde to the time, to 
the age, and the condition of him, to whom we use 
these ceremonies, and likewise respecfl our owne 
calling: and with men of credite maintaine them: 
but w^ men of small account cut them of cleane, 
or at least, abridge them as muche as wee may, & 
rather give them a becke then a due garde : Which 
the courtiers in Rome can very well skill to doe. 

But in some cases these Ceremonies be very 
combersome to a mans busines, and very tedious : 



as "Cover your head,"sayes the judge, yMs busied Of Man- 
w^ causes, and is scanted of time to dispatche ners and 
them. And this fellow so full of these Ceremo- Behav- 
nies, after a number of legges and shuflinge cur- ^otirs 
tesis, aunswers againe: "Sir I am very well thus." 
But sayes the Judge againe, "Cover your head I 
say." Yet this good fellow tourning twise or thrise 
to&fro, making lowecongesdowne to thegrounde 
w* muche reverence and humilitie, aunswers him, 
still: " I beseache your worship, let me doe my due- 
tie." This busines and trouble lastethso long, & so 
muche time is trifled : that the Judge might very 
nere have dispatched all his busines within that 
space. Then, although it be every honest mans 
parte, and the duety of every meaner body, to 
honour the Judges, and men y* be called to wor- 
ship & honour: yet, where time will not beare it: 
it is a very troublesome thing to use it, and it must 
be eschewed, or measured with reason. 

Neither be y® self same Ceremonies semely for " 
young men, respecfling their Age: y^ ould men 
doe use together. Nor yet can it becom men of 
meane and base condition, to use the very same, 
y* gentlemen & greate men may use one to an- 
other. And if wee marke it wellt we shall find, y* 
the greatest, y^ best men, & men of most valour, 
doe not alwayes use y® most Ceremonies them 
selves, nor yet love nor looke a man should make 
many goodly curtsies unto them, as men that can 
ill spend* their thoughts one matters so vaine. 

55 



Galateo Neither must handy crafts men, nor men of base 
condition, buisie them selves to much, in over sol- 
emne Ceremonies togreatemen,and Lordes: it is 
not lookt for in suche. For they disdaine them,more 
then allowe them: because it seemes that in such, 
they seeke, 6c looke, rather for obedience and due- 
tie, then honour. And therefore it is a foule faulte 
in a servaunt, to offer his master his service: for he 
counts it his shame, 6c he thinks the servant doth 
make a doubt, whether he is master or no; as if 
it were not in him to imploy him, 6c commaund 
him too. These kinde of Ceremonies would be 
used frankely. For, What a man dothe of duetie, 
is taken for a debte, and hee finds him selfe litle 
beholding to him that doth it. But he that dothe 
more then he is bound to: it seems he parteth 
with somewhat, and that makes men to love him, 
and to commende him for a liberall man. And I 
remember mee well, I have hearde it saide, that 
a worthy Graecian a greate versifier, was ever 
wont to saye: that He that could skill to enter- 
taine men with a small adventure, made a greate 
gaine. 

You shall then use youre Ceremonies, as the 
tailer shapes his garments, rather to large then to 
litle: but yet not so, that hee cutteth one hose 
large inoughto make a cloke. And if thou doe use 
in this point, some litle gentle behaviour, to suche 
as be meaner then thy selfe: thou shalt be counted 
lowly. And if thou doe asmuche to thy betters: 
J6 



thou shalt bee saide a Gentleman well taught,and Of Man- 
courtious. But hee that dothe herin to muche, and ners and 
is over lavishe, shalbe blamed as vaine and light: Behav- 
and perhaps worse thought oftoo: counted a busie loui's 
body, a fidging fellowe, and in wise mens sight, a 
flatterer: which vice, our elders have called, (if I 
doe not forget me) dowble diligence. And there is 
no faulte in the worlde, more to bee abhorred, or y* 
worsse beseemes a gentleman, then this. And this 
is the thirde maner of Ceremonies, which simply 
procedeth of our owne will, and not of custome. 

Let us then remember, that Ceremonies, (as I 
have alwayes said) were not so necessarie by na- 
ture, but a man might doe well inough without 
them: As for example, our countrie lived (it is not 
long since) in maner cleane without any. But other 
mens diseases have infecfted us, with these infirm- 
ities and many mo. So that, custome and use ob- 
served: the rest that is more, is but waste: and such 
a sufFerable leesing, as if it be more in deede then 
is in use, it is not only unsufFerable, but forbidden: 
and so uppon, the matter, a cold and unsavourie 
thing to noble mindes, that cannot brouse uppon 
shrubbes and shewes. 

And you shall understand , that trusting my owne 
skill but little, in writing this present treatise: I 
thought good to consult with many, and to take 
the Judgement of better learned men then my 
selfe. And this in my reading I fmde. There was 
a King, they call him Oedipus: being banished 

57 



Galateo and driven out of his countrie (uppon what oc- 
casion I know not) he fled to King Theseus at 
Athens, the better to save him selfe and his life, 
from his enemies, that mainely pursued him. This 
Oedipus now comming before the presence of 
Theseus, by good chaunce hearing his daughter 
speake, (whome he knew by her voice, for he was 
blind and could not beholde her with his eyes) he 
was so presently striken with joy, that, not tary- 
ing to doe his allegeaunce and duetie to the King, 
he did presently embrace, & make much of his 
daughter before him: his fatherly afFecftion so led 
him, and rulde him so. But in the end finding his 
fault, and better advising himselfe of his doings : 
he would needs excuse it to Theseus, & humbly 
prayd his grace to pardon his folly. The good and 
wise King, cut of his talke, and bad him leave his 
excuses, and thus saide unto him: Comfort thy 
selfe, Oedipus, and bee not dismayd at that thou 
hast done. For I will not have my life honoured 
with other mens woordes, but with my owne 
deedes. Which sentence a man should have al- 
wayes in mind. 

And albeit men be well pleased, that men doe 
give them worship & honour: yet when they 
find them selves cuningly courted, they be soone 
weary of it, and also disdaine it. For these glaver- 
ings, or flatteries I should say, to amend their knav- 
eries & falsehoodes, have this fault withall: that 
these glavering fellowes doe plainly shewe, they 
J8 



count him, whome they court in this sorte, but a Of Man- 
vaine,and arrogant bodie, an asse of grose capa- ners and 
citie, and so simple, y^ it should be an easie matter Behav- 
to baite him and take him too. And these V^ine lours 
and Curious Ceremonies, besides that they be 
superfluous : they beare with all a shape of flat- 
tery, so slenderly covered, that every man doth 
openly see them, and know themplaine: insuche 
sorte, that they that doe them, to the end to make 
a gaine, besides that ill that is in them, wherof 
I spake before: shewe them selves also, gentle- 
men ill taught, without good maner or any honest 
fashion. 

But there is another sorte of Ceremonious peo- 
ple, who make it an arte and merchandise, and 
keepe a booke and a reconing of it. One these 
men (they say) they must smile, on such men they 
must laughe: and y® better man shall sit in the 
chair, and the other uppon a lowe stoole : which 
superstitious Ceremonies, I beleve, were trans- 
ported out of Spaine into Italie. But our country, 
hath geven them but colde entertainement, and 
as yet they have taken but slender roote here: 
for this precise difference of worship, and gentry, 
is not liked of, with us. And therefore it is but ill 
maner, for a man to make him selfe Judge, which 
is the better man. 

But it is much worse for a man to make a sale 
of his Ceremonies and entertainments, (after y® 
maner of harlots) as I have seene many gentle- - 

^9 



Galateo men doe in the court, geving good wordes and 
faire countenaunces for a rewarde and recom- 
pence, of the goods and the time, their servaunts 
have spent in their service. 

And sure they that take a pleasure to use over 
^ many Ceremonies, more then neede: shewe they 
doe it uppon a lustines and bravery, as men that 
have nothing elles in them of any valour. 

And bycause these follies are learned w^ ease 
inough, and carry withall a litle faire glose in 
shewe: they bestowe all their whole mindes none 
other waye.But grave matters they can not abide 
to weelde, as things to farre above their reache: 
and coulde finde in their harts to dwell in these 
toyes and trifles, as men whose capacitieconceiv- 
eth nought of Importaunce: like tender milkesops 
that can beare no brunt: or that, beside a glorious 
outside, have not mettall inough in them to abide 
aflea biting. And therfore, they could wishe it were 
so: that these entertainments and acquaintance 
with men, should go no further then the first sight. 
And of these there bee an infinite number. 

And some againe be to full of words, and abound 
to muche in curtious gestures to cover and hide the 
defecfts and faults of their treacheries, and their vile 
& base natures: For they see, if they should be as 
baren & rude in their woords, as they be in their 
deeds & their doings, men would in no case abide 
them. And to saye a trueth, yow shall finde y* one 
of these two causes, drawe most men one, to use 
60 



these wast and needles Ceremonies, and nothing Of Man- 
els: which lightly most men cannot away with- ners and 
all, bycause they be hindered by them, & their Behav- 
meanes, to live as they would, and lose their lib- loci's 
ertie: whiche a man dothe preferre above any- 
thing ells. 

Wee must not speake ill of other men, nor of their 
doings: althoughe it plainely appere, that men 
do willingly lend good eare to heare it, as easily 
moved therto, by y^ nature of malice and envy, 
that pines at our Neighbours prosperity and ris- 
ing to worship & honour : for at length men will es- 
chewe the acquaintaunce of Slaunderous people, 
as much as they shunne the Oxe, y^ goreth with his 
horns, or strikes w* his feete: making their recon- 
ing, that what they tell them of us, asmuche they 
will tell us, of them. 

And some ther be, that so quarel at every word, 
question, and wrangle, that they shew they have 
litle skill in other mens natures : for. Every man de- 
sireth the vicftory should go one his side: and hates 
it asmuche, to be mastered in words, as to be van- 
quished in any other acfte that he dothe. Soy*, will- 
fully to overthwart a man, it workethe no Love 
and good will: but rather displeasure, rancoure 
and malice. And therfore, he that sekes to be well 
thought of, and would be taken for a pleasaunt and 
good Companion, must not so redily use these 
speaches: It was not so : And, Nay: it is as I tell you. 
I wil lay a wager with you: But he must rather take 

6i 



Galateo pains, to apply himself to other mens minds con- 
cerning such things, as have matter of small im- 
portaunce: By cause the vicflorye,in such cases, is 
daungerous: for, the gaininge the cause, in trifling 
*questions,dooth often loosetheLoveof afaithfull 
friend. And men are so farre out of love & liking, 
of such hot fellowes: that they will by no meanes 
growe acquainted with suche, least they be driven 
every hower to bralle,to chide, and to fighte with 
them for it. And suche kinde of people doe pur- 
chase these names: Maister Uniciguerra: Or, Sir 
Contraponi: Or, Sir Tuttesalle: And sometime: il 
Dottor suttile. 

And if you chaunce otherwhile, to be intreated 
ofthecompanytospeake your mind: I would have 
you doe it after a gentle sort, without shewing your 
selfe so greedie to carry the bucklers away, as if 
you would eate them up for haste. But you must 
Leave to every man his parte: And bee it right or 
wronge, consent to the minds of the most, or the 
most importunate: and so leave the fielde unto 
them : that some other, and not your selfe, may 
beate and sweat, and chace in the winning of the 
cause. For these quarelous contentions, bee foule 
and ill favoured fashions for gentlemen to use: 
and they get them ill will and displeasure of all 
men for it: and they bee uncomely for their owne 
unseemelines, which of it selfe offendeth every 
good honest minde, as it may chaunce you shall 
heare hereafter. 
61 



But the common fault of men is such, and eche Of Man- 
man is so infedled with this selfe love and liking ners and 
of him selfe: that he hath no respecft or care to Behav- 
please any man ells. lours 

And to shewe them selves fine headed, of muche 
understanding, and wise: they counsell, reprove, 
dispute,and braIle,to daggers drawing,and allowe 
nothing els but that they say them selves. 

To offer advise, unrequested : what is it els but to 
vaunt youre selfe wiser then he is, whom you do 
counsell : nay rather it is a plaine checke to him, 
for his Ignoraunce and folly. And therfore, you 
must not do so, with all your acquaintance gen- 
erally: but only with your very friendes, or suche 
whom you are to governe & rule: or els, when 
a man hapely standes in daunger & perill, how 
muche a straunger so ever he be. But in our com- 
mon Acquaintance and conversation, Let us not 
busy our selves, and medle to muche with other 
mens doings. In which fault many doe fall: but 
most of all, the men of least understanding. For, 
Men of grose capacities consider but litle: And they 
take no longe time to debate with them selves, 
as men that have litle busines to doe. 

But how so ever it be,hee that offereth and gev- 
ethhis counsell : geves us to thinke, hee hathe this 
conceite of him selfe: that all the witt is in him, 
and other poore men have none at all. 

And sure there bee some, that stand so muche in 
conceite of their wit: that they will be in maner, 

63 



Galateo at warres, with him, that wil not follow the coun- 
sell they give them. And thus they will say. "Very 
well: a poore mans counsell will not be taken: 
suche a one will doe as he list: suche a one geves 
no heede to my wordes." As though there were 
not more Arrogancie in thee, that sekest to bring 
a man to followe thy Counsell: then there is in 
him, that followes his owne advise. 

And they doe also make the like fault, y* take 
uppon them to reprove and correcft mens faults, 
and to geve a definite sentence in all things, and 
lay the lawe to all men. "Suche a thing would not 
be done: You spake suche woordes : Doe not so: say 
not so: The wine that you drinke is not good for 
you: it would be red wine. You should use suche 
an Elecftuarie, and suche pilles:" And they never 
leave to reprove and correcft. And let us passe 
that over, that otherwhile, they busy them selves 
so much, to purge other mens grounds : that their 
owne is overgrowen, and full of thornes and net- 
tles. For it is a mervailous paine unto them, to 
heare one that side. 

And as there be few or none, whose minds can 
frame, to spend their life with a Physition, a Con- 
fessour, and muche lesse a Judge that hath juris- 
dicftion and power to controwle and correcft all 
criminall faultes : so is ther not one, that can take 
any pleasure to live, or make himself familiar with 
suche Censors : so hard, and severe. For, every man 
loveth liberty e : and they woulde robbe us of it, and 
64 



get to be our masters. So that it is no good manner 
to be so redie to corecft and give rules unto men: 
we must geve Scholemasters and Fathers leave 
to do that. And yet that notwithstanding, experi- 
ence doth shewe, the childeren and scholers both, 
do often hide them selves from them, you see. 

I doe not allow, that a man should scorne or scoffe 
at any man, what so ever he be: no not his very 
enimy, what displeasure so ever he beare him: for, 
it is a greater signe of contempt and disdaine, to 
scorne a man,then to do him an open wrong: for- 
asmuch as wrongs may be done, either of choler, 
or of som covetous minde or other. Andther is no 
man will take a displeasure with that, or for that, 
he doth not set by: nor yet covet that thing, he 
doth altogether contemne. So that, a man doth 
make some accompt of him he dothe wronge: but 
of him that he scoffes and scornes, he makes no 
reconing at all, or as litle as may be. 

And the Nature and effecfl of a scorne, is prop- 
erly to take a contentation and pleasure to do an- 
other man shame and villany: thoughe it do our 
selves no good in the world. So that, good maner 
& honesty, would us beware we scorne no man in 
any case: wherin they be much to be blamed, that 
reprove men those blemishes they have in their 
person, either in woords, as Master Forese da Ra- 
batta did, laughing at the countenaunce of Master 
Giotta: or in deeds, as many doe, counterfeting 
those that stutter, haulte, or be crookte shoulderd. 

65 



Of Man- 
ners and 
Behav- 



iours 



Galateo And likewise, they that scofFe at any man, that is 
deformed, ill shapen, leane, litle, or a dwarfe, ar 
much to be blamed for it: or, that make a gibing 
and jesting at such follies as another man speak- 
eth, or the woordes that escape him by chaunce: 
and with all, have a sporte and a pleasure to make 
a man blush: all these spitefull behaviours and 
fashions, worthely deserve to be hated, and make 
them that use them, unworthy to beare the name 
of an honest gentleman. 

And such as use to jest at a man,be very like unto 
these: I meane them that have a good sport to 
mocke and beguile men, notin spite or scorne, but 
on a meriment alone. And you shall understand. 
There is no difference betweene a scorne and a 
mocke : but the purpose alone and intent a man 
hath, in the meaning the one or the other. For a 
man mockes and laughes otherwhile, in a sport 
and a pastime: but his scorne is ever in a rage and 
disdaine. Although in common speache and writ- 
ing, wee take the one woorde sometime for the 
other. But He that doth scorne a man : feeleth a 
contentation in the shame he hath done him: And 
hee that dothe mocke, or but laughe: taketh no 
contentation in that he hath done: but a sport, to 
be merry & passe the time away: where it would 
be, both a greefe and a sorrow, perchaunce, unto 
him, to see that man receave any shame, by any 
thing he said or did unto him. 

And althoughe I profited litle, in my Grammar 
6G 



in my youthe; yet I remember that Mitio, who 
loved Aeschines so muche, that he him selfe had 
wonder at it; yet other while, toke a sporte 6c a 
pleasure to mocke him : as when he said to him 
selfe: I will go to give him a mocke: so that, I must 
inferre,that the selfe same thing, done to the very 
selfe same body: according to the intent of him 
that doth it, may be either a mocke or scorne. 

And bycause our purpose, cannot be plainely 
knowne unto other men: it shall not be good for 
us to use such parts, as bring men in doubt and 
suspicion, what our intent and meaning is in them: 
but rather let us eschewe them, then seeke to be 
counted Jesters. For, It many times chaunceth, in 
boording and Jesting, one tackes in sporte, the 
other strikes againe in earnest: & thus from play- 
ing, they come to fraying. So, he that is familiarly 
mockteinpastime,reconsit,otherwhile,tobedone 
to his shame & dishonour, and therat he takes a 
disdaine. Besides this, A mocke is no better, then 
adeceite. And naturally, it greveth every man to 
erre and be deceived. So that, many Reasons ther 
be to prove. That He that seekes to purchase good- 
will, and be well thought of: must not make him 
selfe to cunning in mockes and Jestes. 

It is very true, we are not able, in no wise, to 
leade this paineful life, altogether without some 
pleasure and solace: And bycause Jestes do geve 
us some sporte, and make us merry, and so con- 
sequently refreash our spirits: we love them that 

67 



Of Man- 
ners and 
Behav- 
iours 



Galateo be pleasaunt, merry conceited, and full of solace. 
So that a body would thinke, I should rather per- 
suade the contrarie: I meane, I shoulde say: It is 
convenient and meete in company, to use prety 
mockes, and otherwhile some Jestes and taunts. 
And without doubt, they that can stint after a 
friendly and gentle sort, be muche more made 
of, and better beloved then they that cannot skill 
or have no wit to doe it. Howbeit, it is needeful in 
this, to have a respedl to many things. 

And forasmuche as it is the intent of him that 
doth Jest: to make a sport and pastime at his 
faulte, whome he doth love and esteeme, and of 
whom he doth make more then a common ac- 
count: it must be well lookte to, that the fault, 
wherin his friend hath fallen, be suche,as he may 
sustaine no slaunder or shame, or any harme by 
any talke or Jeste he makes uppon it: otherwise, 
his skil doth ill serve him, to make a good dif- 
ference betweene a pleasaunt Jest, and a very 
plaine wronge. 

And there be some men, so short & so testy, 
that you must, in no wise, be merry, nor use any 
jesting with them. And that can Biondello well 
tell, by Maister Philippo Argenti in the gallery of 
Caviccioli. 

And moreover, It cannot be good to jeaste in 

matters of weite, and muche lesse in matters of 

shame. For,men will weene that wee have a good 

sporte (as the common saying is) to bragge and 

68 



boast in our evill: as it is said, the Lady Philippe Of Man- 
of Prato, took a singular pleasure and contenta- ners and 
tion in the pleasaunt & prety aunswer she made, Behav- 
to excuse her loose and wanton life. And there- lours 
fore, I cannot thinke that Lupo of Uberti did any 
thing extenuat or lessen his shame: but rather in- 
creaste it greater, by the Jeste that hee made to 
excuse his faulte,and qualifye the opinion of his 
cowardly minde. For, where he might have kept 
him selfe safe without daunger in the castle of 
Laterin, wherein he was besieged round about, 
and shutte up : hee thought hee had plaide the 
man good inoughe, in that hee could say at the 
yealding it up: that "A wolfe doth not love to 
be besieged and shutte up." For, where it is out of 
time for to laughe, there to use any Jestes or dali- 
aunce, it hath a very colde Grace. 

And further,you shall understand, there be some 
Jestes y* bite, & some y* bite not at all. For the first 
sorte: let y^ wise counsell that Lauretta gave for 
that point, suffice to teach you: That jestes must 
bite the hearer like a sheepe,butnotlikea dogge. 
For if it pinche, as the bite of a dogge: it shalbe no 
more a jeste but a wronge. And the lawes almost 
in all countries, will, that who saith any villanie 
unto a man,shalbe grevously punished for it. And, 
perchaunce,it were not amisse,to provide with all, 
some sharp correcftion for him, that should bite in 
way of jesting, beyond all honest measure. But 
gentlemen should make account, that the lawe 

69 



Galateo that punisheth wronges, extendeth as farre to 
jestes, and that they should seldome or very easily 
nip or taunt any man. 

And besides all this, you must understand, that 
a jest, whether it bite, or bite not, if it be not fine 
& full of wit, men take no pleasure at al to heare it, 
but rather are wearied with it: or at least wise, if 
they doe laughe, they laughe not at the jest, but at 
the jester him selfe, that brings it forthe so colde. 

And bycause, Jestes be no other thing but de- 
ceites: and deceite (as a thing that is framed of sub- 
tilenes & craft) cannot be wrought but of men, 
that have fine and redy wittes, and very present: 
therefore they have no grace in men that be rude, 
and of grose understanding: not yet in them al- 
wayes, that have the best and floweing wittes: 
as, peradventure, they did not altogether become 
Master John Boccaccio. 

But tauntes and Jestes be a special redines and 
aptnes of wit, and quicken the motions of the 
minde: wherefore they that have discretion, doe 
not in this point, consider their will, but their dis- 
position of nature: and after they have once or 
twise tried their wittes, and finde them unfit for 
suche purpose: they leave to labour them selves 
any further in that kind of exercise: that it may 
not chaunce unto them, that hapt to the knight of 
the lady Horetta. And if you looke in to the maners 
of many, you shall easily see, this that I tell you is 
true: I say, that To Jest or to taunt, is not currant 
70 



with every man that wiII,butonely with them that Of Man- 
can. And there be many that for every purpose, ners and 
have in their mouth redy,many of these wordes, Behav- 
which wee call Bicfticcichi: that have no maner of ^o^^s 
sense or meaning in them. And some, that use very 
foolishly and fondly to chaunge Sillables into 
woords. And some you shall heare speake and 
make answer, otherwise then a man would lightly 
looke for, without any wit or pleasure in the world 
in their talke. And if you doe aske them, "Doue 
e il signore?" they answer againe. "Doue egli ha 
i piedi:"and likewise "Et gli fece unguer le mani 
con le grascia di signore Giovan Boccadoro. Doue 
mi manda egli? Ad Arno. lo mi voglio radere, 
Sarebbe meglio rodere. Wa. chiama il Barbieri. Et 
perrhe non il Barbadomani." Al which be to grose, 
to rude and to stale: and such were almost, all the 
pleasaunt purposes and jestes of Dioneo. 

But I will not take uppon me at this time, to dis- 
course of the best and the worst kinde of jestes, 
what they be : as wel for that other men have writ- 
ten treatises thereof much more lernedly and bet- 
ter then I can: as also, by cause jestes and tauntes, 
have at first sight, a large and sure proofe of their 
grace or disgrace: such, as thou canst not do much 
amisse in this point, w^out thou stand to much in 
thy owne conceite, and think to well of thy selfe: 
for where the jest is prety and pleasaunt, there a 
man straite is rnerry , and shewes a liking by laugh- 
ing, and makes a kinde of admiration of it. So that, 

71 



Galateo where the company geves foorth no liking of thy 
sportes and conceites, by their mirthes and their 
laughing: hould thy selfe still then, and jest no 
more. For it is thy owne faulte thou must think, 
and not theirs that do heare the: forasmuch as the 
hearers, as it were allured, with the redie, pleas- 
aunt, and subtile aunswers or questions (do what 
they can, will they or nill they) cannot forbeare 
their laughing, but laughe in spite of their teeth. 
From whom as from our right & lawfull Judges, 
wee must not appeale to our selves. 

Neither must a man, to make other men merie, 
speake foule and filthie wordes, nor make ilfa- 
voured gestures, distorting his countenaunce, & 
disfiguring his bodie: For, No man should, for other 
mens pleasures, dishonest & dishonour him self. 
It is an arte for a Juggler & jester to use: it doth not 
become a gentleman to do so. We must not then, 
imitate y^ common and rude behaviours of Dioneo. 
Madonna Aldruda Alzate La coda. 

Nor we must not counterfet our selves to be 
fooles & unsavorie doltes: but as time & occasion 
serveth, tell some pretie tale or some news, never 
heard of before, he y* can: & he y^ cannot, let him 
hold his peace. For, these be y® partes of y® wit: 
which, if they be sodain & prety , give a proofe & a 
shew of y® quicknes of y^ wit,& thegoodnesof y® 
maners of him y* speakes them: which thing doth 
verie much please men & makes them our lovers 
& friends. But if they be otherwise, they woorke 
7^ 



them a contrary efFecft. For, a man would weene Of Man- 
the asse would play his parte: or y* some hody ners and 
dody & louberly lout would friske and daunce in Behav- 
his doublet. There is another pleasaunte kind of lotirs 
communication, & y^ is when y® pleasure & grace 
doth not consist in one merrie conceite alone, but 
in long & continued talke: which would be well 
disposed, wel uttered, & very wel set forth, to 
shewy^ maners,y^ fashions, y^ gestures & behav- 
iours of them we speke, of so properly & lively, 
as y ® hearer should think that he heareth them not 
rehearsed, but seeth them with his eyes do those 
very things he heares them to speak of: which be 
very well observed by the gentlemen and gentle- 
women both, inBoccace: although yet otherwhile 
(if I be not deceived) they do affecft and counter- 
fet,more then is sightly for a gentleman or gentle- 
woman to doe, like to these Comedie Players. And 
to doe this well, you must have the matter, the tale, 
or the story, you take uppon you to tell,perfedt in 
your minde : and woordes so redy and fit, that you 
neede not say in the end: "That thing, and tother 
thing: This man, what doe you call him : That mat- 
ter, helpe me to terme it: "And," remember what 
his name is." For this is just the trot of the knight 
of the Lady Horetta. And if you doe reherse any 
chaunce, in which there be many speakers: you 
must not say, "He said and he aunswered:" by- 
cause this worde (He) serveth for all men. So that 
the hearer that harkens unto it, is easily deceived, 

7?> 



Galateo and forgets whome you meane. Then, it behoves 
them that discourse matters at length, to use 
proper names, & not to chaunge them after. 

And more over, a man must beware that he say, 
not those things, which unsaide in silence would 
make y^ tale pleasaunt inoughe and peradven- 
ture, geve it a better grace to leave them out. As to 
say thus. "Such a one, that was the sonne of such a 
one, that dwelt in Cocomer streete: do you knowe 
him? he maried the daughter of Gianfigliazzi, 
the leane scragge, that went so much to Saint La- 
raunce. No ? do not you know him ? why ? do you 
not remember the goodly straight old man that 
ware long haire downe to his shoulders?" For if 
it were nothing materiall to the tale, whether this 
chaunce befell him, or him: all this long babble, 
and fond and folishe questions, were but a tale of a 
Tubbe: to no purpose, more then to weary mens 
eares that harken to it, and long to understand the 
end. As peradventure our Dant hath made this 
fault otherwhile, where he sayeth: 

"And borne my parents were of yoare 
in Lumbardie, 
And eke of Mantuaes soile they both 
by country be." 

For, it was to no purpose, whether his mother 
were borne at Gazuolo, or ells at Cremona. 

But I lerned once of a straunger, a Rethorician 
very lerned, a necessarie lesson concerning this 

74 



poindl: that Men must dispose and order their Of Man- 
tale, first with bynames, and then rehearse them ners and 
(as neede is) that be proper. For, the bynames Behav- 
alwayes beare the respecft of the persones qual- lours 
itie: but the other are to be used at the Fathers 
discretion, or his whome they concerne. 

And therfore,that bodie whome in your thought 
and imagination to your selfe,you doe conceive, 
might be Lady Covetousnes her selfe: in speache 
you shall call Maister Erminio Grimaldi: if suche 
be the common opinion, the countrie hathe of him. 
And, if there be no man in place where you dwell, 
so notoriously knowne as might serve the turne fit 
for your purpose: you must then imagine the case 
further of, and set him a name at your pleasure. 
It is very true, that With muche greater pleasure 
we harken and better beholde (as it were with 
our eyes) what soever is told us of men of our ac- 
quaintance, if the matter be suche as toucheth 
their maners: then what we doe heare of straun- 
gersandmenunknowneuntous. And the reason is 
this: when wee doe knowe, that suche a man is 
woont to doe so: we doe easily beleeve, he hathe 
doone so indeede: and wee take asmuche knowe- 
ledge of him, as if wee were present: where it 
chaunceth not so with us, in the case of a straunger. 

Our wordes (be it in longe discourses or other 
communication) Must be so plaine, that all the 
companie may easily understand them : and with- 
all, for sounde and sense they must be apt and 

75 



Galateo sweete. For if you be to use, one of these two 
wordes : you shall rather say, II ventre : then L Epa. 
And where your country speache will beare it, 
you shall rather say : La Pancia, then il Ventre : Or, 
il Corpo. For, by these meanes you shalbe under- 
stoode, and not misse understoode, as we Floren- 
tines say, nor be darke and obscure to the hearers. 
The which thing our Poet, meaning to eschewe: 
in this very woorde it selfe (I beleve) sought to 
finde out another,not thinking muche of his paines 
(by cause it liked him wel) to seeke farre to borrow 
it els where. And said: 

Remember how the Lorde a man was faine to be, 
For mans offence and sinne in Cloister of virginitie. 

And albeit Dant the learned Poet, did litlesetby 
suche kinde of rules: I doe not think yet, a man 
should allow well of him in doing so. And sure, I 
would not councell you to make him your Maister 
in this point, to learne A Grace: forasmuche as he 
him selfe had none. For, this I finde in a Chronicle 
of him. 

"This Dant, was somewhat proude for his know- 
ledge, scornefull and disdainfull, and muche (as 
Philosophers be) without any grace or courtesie: 
having no skill to behave him selfe in company." 

But to come to our purpose againe: I say, our 
speache must be plaine: which will be easie 
inough to doe: if you have wit to choose those 
wordes that be naturally bred in our soile : and 
7^ 



y 



with all not so olde w^ Age, that they are be- Of Man- 
come rotten and withered: and as overworneap- ners and 
parell, leaft of and cast a side. As, Spaldo, and Epa, Behav- 
and Vopo, and Sezzaio, & Primaio. And more- lours 
over, the wordes you shall use, must have no dou- 
ble understanding, but simple. For by coupling 
suche wordes together: wee frame that speache 
that is called Aenigma. And to speake it plainer 
in our owne language, we call it Gergo. As in this 
verse: 

lo vidi un che da sette passatoi 
Fu da un canto all' altro trapassato. 

Againe, our wordes would be, (as nere as they 
might be) aptly and properly applied to that thing 
we go about to deliver, & as litle as may be, com- 
mon to other matters: for, in so doing, a man shall 
weene, the matter it selfe is openly laide before 
him: & that it is not expressed with wordes, but 
pointed foorthe with the finger. And therefore we 
may more properly say: A man is knowen by his 
countenaunce, then by his figure or counterfet. 
And Dant did better expresse the matter, when 
he saide, 

"The weightes 
That peize the weight doe make the 
balance creeke," 

Then if he had saide 

"Crie out and make a noise." 



77 



Galateo And it is a more proper and peculiar speache to 
say, The shivering of an ague, then to call it The 
Colde. And flesh that is Tidie, to terme it rather, 
Fatte: then Fulsome. 

Ther be some woordes more in this place to like 
effecfl, which I meane not to stande uppon now: 
bycause our Englishe tounge cannot hansomely 
deliver their perfecft meaning. For the Italians 
have (as we have, and all other Countreis ells as 
well as wee) certaine peculiar wordes and termes, 
so naturally and properly their owne, as it is not 
possible to expresse them aptly and perfecftly 
in any other Language. And therefore the Au- 
thor him selfe, fearing, or knowing asmuche in 
the sense of these wordes, which he hath inferred 
in this place (as it were preventing a blame) in 
maner excuseth and speaketh asmuch as I say, 
as the matter it selfe that insueth doth shewe. For, 
the Author him selfe following his purpose saithe 
thus. 

" I am well assured, if some straunger should, un- 
happely for my credite,hit uppon this treatise of 
mine: he would laughe mee to scorne, and say that 
I taught to speake in riddles, or els in Ciphers. For 
as muche as these wordes, be almost so properly 
our owne, that other countries have no acquaint- 
ance with them : or, if they woulde use them, yet 
they cannot tell how to understand them. For, who 
is it that knowes what Dant ment in this verse. 

78 



Behav- 
iours 



Gia veggia per Mezzul perdere o Lulla. Of Man- 

" Sure, I beleeve no man ells but we that are Flor- 
entines can understand it. Notwithstanding, for 
any thing that I have saide, if there be any fault 
in this text of Dant: it is not in the wordes. But, if 
he have faulted, it is rather in this: that (as a man 
somewhat wilfull) he would take uppon him, a 
matter harde to be uttered in wordes, and per- 
adventure unplesaunt to heare: then that he hath 
exprest it ill." 

It is not then for a man to use any talke, with 
him that understandeth not that language you 
talke unto him. Nor yet, bycause a Douche man 
understandes not the Italian tounge,must wee (for 
that cause) breake of our talke,toholde talke with 
him, to make our selves counterfets, as Maister 
Brusaldo did, and as some other be woont, that 
fondly and coldly, without any grace, thrust them 
selves in to Chat in their language with whome 
they talke, what so ever it be, and chop it out every 
worde preposterously. And many times it chaun- 
ceth, the Spaniard talkes Italian with the Italian, 
and the Italian babbles againe in a bravevery and 
gallantnes, the Spanishe toung with the Spaniard. 
And yet, it is an easier thing to know, y* they both 
talke like strangers : then to forbeare to laugh at 
the folish follies that scape them both in speache. 
Let us not therfore use our forreigne language, 
but when it is needefull for us to be understoode, 

7^ 



Galateo for some necessitie or other, that appertaineth un 
to us : And in common use, use our owne tounge, 
thoughe not altogether so good: rather then a 
forreigne language, better then our owne that is 
naturall unto us. For a Lumbarde shall speake his 
owne tounge more aptly (which is, notwithstand- 
ing, but base and barbarous) then he shall speake 
the Tuscane, or other language: even by cause he 
hath not so redily,so proper and peculiar wordes, 
althoughe he studie much for them, as wee our 
selves that be Tuscanes. 

But yet, if a man have a respecfl to them with 
whome he talkes : and for that cause forbeare 6c 
leave out those singular wordes, (which I have 
spoken of) and in stede of them use the generall 
and common: his talke, by suche meanes, shall 
have the lesse pleasure & delight. 

Besides this, it becometh everie honest gentle- 
man, to eschewe those wordes that have no 
honest meaning. And, The goodnes of wordes 
consisteth either in their sound, or pronouncing: 
or, in their sense and meaning. For as much as 
som wordes speake an honest matter, and yet, 
perchaunce, there is a certaine unhonest sense 
perceaved to stand in the pronouncinge of the 
worde it selfe: as Rinculare: which, notwith- 
standing, is daily used of all men. But if a man or 
woman should speake after this sorte, & at that 
verie warning doe it in sight of any (che si dice 
il farsi indietro) then would the grosenesse of the 
80 



worde plainlie appeare unto them. But our Pal- Of Man- 
ate, throughe Custome and Use, happilie tasteth ners and 
y® wine (as it were) and the bestnes of the sense Behav- 
of the worde, and not y® Dregges or Leeze. lours 

She gave the Spanish figge with both 
her thumbes at once. 

Saith Dant. 

But our women, would be much ashamed to 
speake so: yea to shunne this ambiguous woord, 
y* signifieth a worse matter, they rather say Le 
castagne. Albeit yet some of them at unwares, 
many times, name that unadvisedly, which if an- 
other man had spoken to trie them, would have 
made them blushe to heare that remembred in 
way of blasphemie, which makes them women. 
And therefore, suche as be, or would be better 
mannered or taught, take good heede they doe 
eschewe, not only things uncleane and unhonest, 
but woordes also: and not somuche those that 
be evill indeede, but those that may be, or doe 
but seeme to be unhonest, foule & filthie: as some 
men say these are of Dant. 

She blewe large blastes of winde 
Both in my face and under. 

Or els these. 

I pray thee tell mee where about the 
hole doth stand. " 

And one of the Spirits said. 

8i 



Galateo Then come behinde and where the hole is, 
it may be scand. 

And you must knowe, that albeit two, or moe 
wordes,other while chaunce to tell one selfe thinge, 
yet the one is more cleanly then the other. As for 
example, to say: Con lui giacque, & Delia sua per- 
sona gli sodisfece. For this self same speach, if it 
were in other termes, would be to broad before & 
to filthie to heare it. And speaking of Endymion, 
you may more aptly say: II Vago della Luna: then 
you can say II Drudo, althoughe both these wordes 
doe import and signifie A lover, and a Friend. And 
a much honester speache is it, if you talke of 
Aurora, to call, her. Tritons prety gerle and lover, 
then Concubine. And it better becomes a mans 
and womans mouth, to call Harlots, women of the 
worlde (as Belcolore did, who was more ashamed 
to speake it then to doe it) then to use their com- 
mon name: Thaide e la Puttana. And as Boccace 
declared y^ power of Meretrici and Ragazzi. For, 
se cosi hauesse nominato dall' arte loro i maschi, 
come nomino le femine; his talke would have 
byn foule & shamefull. And withall, A man must 
not alone beware of unhonest and filthie talke: 
but also of that whiche is base and vile, and es- 
pecially where a man talketh & discourseth of 
greate and highe matters. And for this Cause, 
perchaunce, woorthely some blame our Beatrice, 
sayeing: 

82 



To passe throughe Lethes floud, the highest Of Man- 
Fates would blott, ners and 

If man mighte taste the Viandes suche, as Behav- 

there dooe fall by Lott, io^^s 

And not pay firste a due repentaunce 
for his scott. 

For, in my conceite, these base wordes that come 
outof theTavernes,bee verie uncomely for suche 
a worthy discourse. And when a man hathe like 
occasion to speake of y® Sunne, it shall not be 
good to call it The Candell or the Lampe of the 
world: by cause such woordes do put us in minde 
of y® Oyle, & the stufFe of the kitchin. Neither 
should a man that is well advised, say that Saincfte 
Dominicke was II DrudodellaTheologia: Nor yet 
talke,that the glorious Saincfles have spoken suche 
base and vile woordes : As for Example to say. 

And leave to scratche whereas the scabs of 
sinne breake out. 

For they savour of y® dregges, & y^ filth of y® 
common people, as every man may easily see. 

Againe, in your long and large discourses, you 
must have y^ like considerations & cares, & some 
more: y® which you may more commodiously 
learne of your Maisters y^ teache you y* arte, that 
is commonly called Rhetorike. 

And amongest other things. You must accus- 
tome your selfe,to use suche gentle and courtious 
speache to men, and so sweete, that it may have 

83 



Galateo no maner of bitter taste. And you shall rather say, 
I cannot tell how to say it: Then say: you ar de- 
ceived: Or, it is not true: Or, you know it not. For, it 
is a courteous and friendly parte to excuse a mans 
faulte,even in that very thing, wherein you know 
how to blame him. And withall, it doth well, to 
make the proper and peculiar fault of your friend, 
indifferent and common to you both: and first, 
to take one piece to your selfe, and then after, to 
blame and reprove him for it. Wee were deceived 
and failed muche: we forgot our selves yesterday 
to doe so. Althoughe suche negligence 6c errour, or 
what soever it be: be altogether his fault and not 
yours. And Restagnone forgat him selfe muche, 
when he saide to his companions: If your wordes 
doe not lie. For, A man should not bring another 
mannesfaitheandhonestieinquestionanddoubte. 
But, if a man promise you any thing, and doe 
not performe it: it shall not doe well, for you 
to say unto him. You have lost your credite with 
mee: without some necessarie cause doe drive 
you to say so, as to save your owne credite and 
honestie. But, you shall rather say: You could not 
do it: Or, you did not remember to doe it: Then, 
you have cleane forgotten mee. For, these kinde 
of speaches, have some prickles & stinges of Com- 
plaint, Anger and Choler. So that, suche as use 
them selves to speake suche churlishe and fum- 
ishe woordes,are taken for sharpe and sower fel- 
lowes : & men doe asmuche shunne their acquaint- 
84 



ance: as to thrust them selves uppon thornes and Of Man- 
thistles, ners and 

And by cause I knowesom,of thisnaughtiecon- Behav- 
dition & qualitie : I meane some y^ be so hastie and lo^rs 
greedy to speake,y4hey take not the sense with 
them, but over passe it and runne before it, as the 
grehound, that doth not pinche by overshooting 
his game: ther fore I will not spare to tell you that, 
which may be thought needeles to touche, as a 
thing to well knowen: and that is, that You shall 
never speake, before you have first considered & 
laide the plot in your minde what it is you have 
to saie. For in so doing, your talke shalbe well 
delivered and not borne before the time. I trust, 
straungers will easily beare with this worde: if at 
least they vouchsafe to read these trifles of mine. 
And if you doe not skorne my preceptes : it shall 
never chaunce you to say: "welcome Maister 
Agostino," to such a one, whose name is Agnolo, 
or Bernardo. And you shal never need to say, 
"Tell me your name:" Nor say againe, "I saide 
not well:" Nor, " Lorde what doe I call him:" Nor 
to hack and to stutter long together, to finde out 
a worde, " Maister Arrigo : " no " Master Arabico : " 
Tushe, what doe I call him I should say, "Maister 
Agabito." These fonde & foolish behaviours & 
fashions, paine a man as much to heare them, as 
to be drawne and haled with cordes. 

The voice would be neither hoarse nor shrill. 
And, when you laugh and sporte in any sorte: you 

8^ 



Galateo must not crye out and criche like the Pullye of a 
well : nor yet s peake in your yawning. I kno we well 
it is not in us, to geve our selves a ready tongue 
or perfecft voice at our owne will and pleasure. 
Hee y^ doth stutter, or is hoarse: let him not al- 
wayes bableand gabbe,andkeepeacourtealone: 
let him rather amend the defecfl of his tounge with 
silence,and hearinge: and withall (if hee can) with 
studie diminishe the fault of Nature. It is an ill 
noise to heare a man raise his voice highe, like to 
a common Crier. And yet I would not have him 
speake so lowe and softly, that he that barkens, 
shall not heare him. And if he be not heard at y^ 
first time he speaketh, he must speake, the next 
time, somewhat plainer: but yet, not yoape out 
aloude, that he make not men thinke he is woode 
and angry with them: for hee shall doe but well, 
to rehearse that againe he hath spoken, y* men 
may understand what he said. 

Your wordes would be disposed, even as the 
common use of speache doth require and not 
unsorted, disordered and scattered confusedly: as 
many be woont to doe uppon a bravery, whose 
maner of talke is more like a Scrivener (me 
thinke) that readeth in his mother tounge, the In- 
denture he hath written before in latine : then a 
man that reasoneth or talketh in his Naturall lan- 
guage: as this for example. 

They drawe by sent of false and fained 
steps of truth. 
86 



Behav- 
iours 



Or if a man should preposterously place his Of Man- 
wordes thus. ners and 

Those times did blossomes geve before their 
time of soothe. 

Which maner of speache, may be otherwhile 
allowed in versifiers : but it is utterly forbidden 
in common talke. 

And, it behoves a man, not onely to shunne this 
versifying maner of speache, in his familiar and 
common discourse, or talke: but likewise eschewe 
y® pomp, bravery, & affecftation, that may be suf- 
fered and allowed to inriche an Oration, spoken 
in a publike place. Otherwise, men that doe heare 
it, will but spite it, and laughe him to scorne for it. 

Albeit perchaunce, a Sermon may shewe a 
greater cunning and arte, then common talke. 
But,Everie thingmust have his timeandplace.For, 
he that walkes by the way must not daunce, but 
goe. For, every man hath not the skill to daunce, 
yet every man can skill to goe. But, Dauncing is 
meete for feastes & weddings: it is not to use in 
the stretes. You must then take good heede you 
speake not with a majestie. 

It is thought by many Philosophers. 

And suche is all Filocolo, and the other trea- 
tises of Maister John Boccace, except his greater 
woorke, and litle more perchaunce Corbaccio. 

I would not for al this, that you should use so 
base a speache, as y® scum, as it were, and the 

87 



Galateo froth of the meanest and vilest sorte of people, 
Launderers & Hucksters: butsucheas gentlemen 
should speake & talke, which I have partly told 
you before, in what sort it may be done: that is, 
if you talke of matters that be neither vile, vaine, 
fowle, nor lothesome. And if you have skill to 
choose amongest the woords of your owne coun- 
trie speache, the purest and most proper, suche as 
have the best sounde, and best sense, touching nor 
remembring, in no case, no matter that is foule, 
vile and base: & if you can place your woords in 
good order, and not shoofle them together at ran- 
don, nor yet, with over muche Curious studie, 
file them (as it were) one your beades. Moreover, 
if you do dispose such things as you have to say 
with discretion. And take good hede that you 
couple not unfit & unlikely matters together: as 
for Example. 

As sure as God is in Heaven: 

So stands the staffe in the chimny corner. 

And if you speake not so slowe, as if you were 
unlustie: nor so hasty, as if you wer hungrie: but 
as a wise and a temperate man should doe. Like- 
wise, if you pronounce y oure woords and your sil- 
lables with a certaine grace 6c sweetnes : not as a 
Scholemaister y* teacheth young Children to read 
& to spell. Neither must you mumble them nor 
supp them up, as if they were glued & pasted to- 
gether one to another. If you remember these and 

88 



such other rules and precepts: youre talke will be Of Man- 
liked, and heard with pleasure enoughe: and you ners and 
shall well maintaine the state and countenaunce, Behav- 
that well besemeth a gentleman well taught and lo^rs 
honest. 

Besids these, there be some, that never hould 
their tounge. And as the shippe that sailes, doth 
not presently stand still, by taking downe the 
sailes: So doe they runne forward, as caried away 
with a certaine braide: and loosing the matter 
of their talke, yet leave not to babble, but either 
repeate that againe that is said, or els speake still 
they cannot tell what. 

And there be other so full of babble, that they 
will not suffer another to speake. And as wee doe 
see otherwhile, uppon the flowers in the countrie 
where they thresh corne, one Pullet pull the corne 
out of the others beake : so doe they catche the 
tale out of his mouth y- beganne it, and tell it them 
selves. And sure, suche maner of people, induce 
men to quarell and fight with them for it.For, if you 
doe marke it wel: Nothing moves a man sooner to 
anger: then when he is soudainely cut short of his 
will and his pleasure, be it of never so little and 
small importaunce.As when you gape wide with 
yawning: another should thrust his hand in your 
mouth: or when you doe lift your arme redy to 
hurle a stone: it is soudainly staide by one that 
stands behinde you. Even then, as these doings, 
and many moe like unto these, which tend tohin- 

89 



Galateo der the will and desire of another (albeit but in way 
of sporte & of play) are unseemely, and would be 
eschewed: So in talke and communication with 
men, wee should rather pull one, and further their 
desiers, by what meanes we can, then stop them 
and hinder them in it. 

And therefore, If any man be in a redines to tell 
his tale: it is no good maner to interrupte him: 
nor to say that you doe knowe it well. Or, if hee 
besprinckle his tale here and there, with some 
prety lie: you must not reprove him for it, neither 
in wordes nor in gesture, as shaking your hed, or 
scowlingupponhim,asmanybewont: gloriously 
vaunting them selves, that they can, by no meanes, 
abide the taste of a Lie. . . . But, this is not the 
reason of this, it is the sharpenes and sowernes of 
their owne rusticall 6c eager Natures, which makes 
themsovenemous & bitter in all companies they 
come: that no man cares for their acquaintance. 

Likewise, It is an illfavoured condition to stop an- 
other mans tale in his mouth: and it spites himas- 
muche, as if a man should take him by the sleeve 
& hould him backe, even when he is redie to runne 
his course. And when another man is in a tale, it is 
no good maner for you, by telling the company 
some newes,& drawing their mindes to other mat- 
ters, to make them forsake him cleane, and leave 
him alone. For, it is an uncourtious parte for you 
to leade and carry away the company: which the 
other (not you) hath brought together. 
90 



And, when a man tells his tale, you must geve Of Man- 
good eare unto him: that you may not say other- ners and 
while, O what?: Or, how?: which is many a mans Behav- 
fashion to doe. And this is asmuch trouble and iours 
paine to him that speaketh: as to shoofle against 
y® stones, to him that goeth. All these fashions, 
and generally, that which may stoppe, and that 
which may traverse the course of another mans 
talke, must be shunned. 

And, if a man tell his tale slowe like a drawe- 
latche: you must not yet hasten him forwarde, 
nor lende him woordes, although you be quicker 
in speache then hee. For, many doe take that ill, 
and specially suche, as persuade themselves they 
have a Joly grace in telling a tale. For, they doe 
imagine you thinke not so well of them, as they 
themselves doe: And that you would geve them 
instructions in their owne Arte: as Merchaunts that 
live in greate wealth & plentie, would count it a 
greate reproche unto them, that a man should 
proffer them money, as if they lived in lacke, & 
were poore and stoode in neede of releefe. And 
you must understand, that, Every man in his 
owne conceite, thinkes he can tell his tale well : 
althoughe for modestie sake he deny it. And I 
cannot gesse how it cometh to passe, that the veri- 
est foole doth babble most: which over muche 
prattle, I would not have a gentleman to use, and 
specially, if his skill be but scant in the matter 
in talke: Not onely, by cause it is a hard matter: 

91 



Galateo but, He must run in many faults that talkes 
muche: but also, by cause a man weenes, that, He 
that talkes all the talke to him selfe, woulde (after 
a sorte) preferre him self above them all that heare 
him, as a Maister would be above his scholers. And 
therfore, It is no good maner for a man to take 
uppon him a greater state, then doth become 
him. And in this fault, not men alone, but many 
countries fall into, so cackling and prattling: that, 
woe be their eares that geve them hearing. 

But, as over muche babble makes a man weary: 
'^ so doth over muche Silence procure as greate dis- 
liking. For,To use silence in place where other men 
talke to and fro : is in maner, asmuche a fault, as 
not to pay your share and scot as other men doe. 
And as speache is a meane to shewe men your 
minde, to whome you speake: so, doth Silence 
againe make men wene,y ou seke to be unknowne. 
So y^ as those people which use to drinke muche 
atfeastes,and make them selves drunke,are wont 
to thrust them out of their companie, that will not 
take their drinke as they doe : So be these kinde 
of mute & still fellowes, coldly welcome to pleas- 
aunt and mery companie, that meete to passe the 
time away in pleasure and talke. So that. It is good 
maner for a man to speake, and likewise to hold 
his peace, as it comes to his turne, and occasion 
requires. 

As an old Chronicle maketh mention. There was 
in the parts of Morea, a very good workman in 
92 



stone: Who for y^ singular good skill he had in his Of Man- 
Art, was called (as I take it) Maestro Chiarissimo. ners and 
This man (now well strooken in yeares) made Behav- 
a certaine treatise, & therin gathered together al lo^^s 
y^ precepts & rules of his arte : as the man y^ had 
very good skill to doe it: shewing inwhatsortethe 
proportions and lineaments of the body, should 
be duely measured, as well everyone a parte by 
it selfe, as one respecfting another: y* they fnight 
justly & duely be answerable y^ one to the other: 
which treatise of his, he named Regolo. Meaning 
to shewe, that according to that, all the Images 
and pidlures,that from thensforth any workeman 
should make, should be squared & lined forth: as 
y® beames,and y^ stones, and the walles, are mea- 
sured by y^ rules & precepts of that booke. But, for 
that it is a muche easier matter to speake it, then to 
worke it, or doe it: and besides that, The greatest 
number of men, especially of us that be prophane 
and not learned, have our senses much quicker 
then our understanding, and consequently, better 
conceive particular things and Examples, then 
the generall propositions and Syllogismes (which I 
might terme in plainer speache, Reasons) for this 
cause this worthy man I speake of, having regard 
to the Nature of workemen: whose capacities are 
unfit and unable to weeld the weigh te of generall 
Precepts and rules : and to declare more plainely , 
with all his cunning and skill: having found out 
for his purpose, a fine marble stone, with muche 

93 



Galateo labour and paine, he fashioned and shaped an 
Image of it, as perfecftly proportioned in every 
parte and member: as the precepts and rules of 
his treatise had befgre devised. And as he named 
the booke, so did he name that Image, and called 
it by name of Regolo. 

Now, (and it pleased god) I would I could but 
one parte of those twoe points, which that noble 
Ingraver 6c worckeman I speake of, had perfedl 
skill and knowledge to doe: I meane, that I could 
gather together in this treatise, after a sorte, the 
due measures of this Art I take uppon me to 
treate of. For, to perfourme the other, to make 
the second Regolo: I meane, to use and observe 
in my maners, the measures I speake of, framing 
and forming, as it were, A Visible Example, and a 
material Image ofthem: it were now, to muchefor 
me to doe. For asmuch as. It is not inough to have 
knowledge and Art, in matters concerning man- 
ers & fashions of men: But it is needefull withall, 
to worke them to a perfecft effecft, to pracftise and 
use them muche: which cannot be had uppon the 
soudaine, nor learned by & by: but it is number 
of yeares that must winne it: & y® beste parte 
of mine be runne fourth alredy, you see. 

But for all this,you must not make y^ lesse recon- 
ing of these precepts. For, A man may well teache 
another the way : although he have gone out of the 
way himself. And, peradventure, they that have 
lost their wayes, do better remember the hard 
94 



wayes to find : then they that never went a misse. Of Man- 
And, if in mine infancie, when minds be tender ners and 
and pliable, like a young twigge, they that had y^ Behav- 
charge & governement of me, had had the skill to ^otirs 
smoothe my manners, (perhaps of Nature som- 
what hard and rude) and would have polished and 
wrought them fine: perad venture I should have 
beene such A one, as I travaile to make thee Nowe, 
whome I love no lesse then if thou were my sonne. 
For albeit,the power of Nature be greate :yet is she 
many times Maistered and correcfted by custome: 
But, we must in time begin to encounter and beate 
her downe, before she get to muche strength and 
hardines.But most men will not doe so: but rather 
yealdingto their appetite withoutanystriving,fol- 
lowing it where so ever it leades them, thinke they 
must submitte themselves to Nature: As though 
Reason were not anaturall thing in man. But, Rea- 
son hath (as a Lady and Mistris) power to chaunge 
olde customes, and to helpe & hold up Nature, 
when she doth at any time decay and fall. But very 
seldome we harken unto her. And y^ for y^ moste 
parte, maketh us like unto them whome god hath 
not endued w* Reason: I mean brute beastes, in 
whome notwithstanding, something yet work- 
eth : not their owne Reasons (for they have none of 
them selves) but ours : as in horses you see it : which 
by nature would be ever wilde, but y* their rider 
makes them tame, and withal, after a sorte, redy & 
very well paced. For many of them would have a 

^5 



Galateo hard trot, but that the rider makes them have an 
easier pace. And some he doth teache to stand still, 
to galopp, to treade the ringe,and passe the car- 
reere: And they learne to doe it all well you see. 
Then, if the horse, the dog, y^ hauke, & many other 
beastes besides, more wilde then these, be guided 
and ruled by Reason, and learne that which their 
owne Nature cannot attaine, but rather repugn- 
eth: and become after a sorte cunning and skil- 
full,so farre as their kinde doth beare it,not by Na- 
ture, but by cus tome & use: how muchethen may 
» we thinke wee should excell them, by the pre- 

cepts and rules of our Reason, if wee tooke any 
heede unto it.But,The Senses desire 6c covet pres- 
ent delightes,what soever they be: and can abide 
no paines, but puts them of. And by this meanes, 
they also shake of Reason, and thinke her un- 
pleasant, forasmuche as she sets before them, not 
pleasure, many times, hurtfull: but goodnes and 
vertue, ever painfull, sower and unsavoury in 
taste. For, while we live according to the Sense, wee 
are like to the selly sickman, to whom al cates 
never so deinty & sweete, seeme untoothsome: 
and he chideth still with his Cater and Cooke, in 
whomethereisnofaultatallfor it. For, it is the Na- 
ture of his disease, and the Extremitie of his sick- 
nes,and not the fault of his meate, that he doth not 
savourly taste what he eates. So Reason, which of 
it selfe is sweete and savourie: seemes bitter in 
taste unto us, though it have no ill taste in dede. 
96 



And therfore as nice & deintie felowes,we refuse 
to make any taste of her : 6c cover our grosnes, w* 
saying that Nature hath no spurres nor raines y* 
can prick her forth, or hold her backe. Where sure, 
if an Oxe or an Asse, or a Hogge, could speake : I 
beleeve, they could not lightly tell a more fowle 
& shamefull tale then this. We should be children 
still all the time of our riper yeares, & in our ex- 
treame age: and waxe as very fooles with gray 
hoary heads, as when we were very babes : if it 
were not that reason, which increaseth in Us with 
our yeares, subdueth affecftions in us and growen 
to perfecftion, transformeth us from beastes in to 
men. So that it is well seene,shee ruleth our senses 
and bridleth our willes.And it is our ownelmper- 
fecftion and not her faulte, if we doe s warve from 
vertue, goodnes, and good order in life. 

It is not then true, that there is not a bridell and 
Master for Nature, Nay, she is guided and ruled by 
twaine: Custome I meane, and Reason. But, as I 
have tould you a li tie before : Reason without Cus- 
tome and use, cannot make an uncivile bodie, well 
taught and courtious: Which custome and use, is 
as it were, bred and borne of time. And therefore 
they shall doe well, to harken betime unto her, not 
only for that, by this meanes, a man shall have 
more time and leasure to. learne to be such as she 
teacheth, and to become as it were a houshould 
servaunt of hers, and one of her traine: but also 
by cause The tender age, as pure and cleane, doth 

97 



Of Man- 
ners and 
Behav- 



iours 



Galateo easily receave all Impressions, and reteineth more 
lively, the colours wherewith she is dyed: then 
when a man comes to riper yeares: And also, by- 
causeThe things wherein wee ha vebyn nourished 
and trained from our youth, doe ordinarily please 
us, above all other things. And for this cause, it is 
said that Diodato, a man that had a singular good 
gift & grace of utterance, would evermore bee the 
first that came fourth uppon the stage to shewe 
his Comedie: allthoughe they were all but coun- 
terfets unto him, whosoever they were that should 
havespokenbeforehim.Buthewould not his voice 
should occupie other mens eares, after they heard 
another man speake. Although, in respecft of his 
doings, it were a greate deale Inferiour tohis. Seing 
then, I cannot agree my workes and my wordes to- 
gether, for those causes I have shewed you before, 
as Maestro Chiarissimo did: whoe had as good a 
skil to do it,as he had knowledge to teache it: let it 
suffice that I have tould in some part what must 
be done, by cause I am not by any meanes able 
to doe it in dede. He that liveth in darkenes, may 
very well Judge what comfort it is to enjoy the 
benefit of light. And by an over long silence, we 
knowe what pleasure it is to speake: so when you 
beholde my grose and rude maners: you shall 
better Judge, what goodnes and vertue there is in 
courtious behaviours and fashions. 

To come againe then to this treatise, which 
growes now to some end : wee say that Those be 

98 



good maners and fashions, which bring a delight. Of Man- 
or at least, offend not their senses, their minds, and ners and 
conceits, with whom we live. And of these, wee Behav- 
have hitherto spoken inoughe. iours 

But you must understand with all this, that, Men 
be very desirous of bewtifull things, well propor- 
tioned and comely. And of counterfet things fowle 
and ill shapen,they beas squemish againe,on the 
other side. And this is a speciall privilege geven to 
us: that other creatures have no capacitie,to skill 
what bewtie or measure meaneth. And, therefore, 
as things not common w^ beastes but proper to our 
selves: we must embrace them for them selves: 
and holde them dere: & yet those, much more, y* 
drawe nerest to y® knowledge of man: as which 
are most apt and inclined to understand the per- 
fecftion which Nature hath lefte in men. 

And albeit, it be a hard matter, to shewe pre- 
cisely, Bewtie, what maner of thing it is: yet y* 
you may have some marke, to know her by: you 
must understand, y^ Where jointly & severally, 
every parte & the whole hath his due proportion 
and measure, there is Bewtie. And that thing 
may justly be called faier, in which the saide pro- 
portion and measure is found. And by that I did 
once learne of a wise & a learned man : Bewtie he 
said, would consist but of one, at the moste. And 
Deformitie contrarywise, measured her selfe, by 
Many. As you may see by the faces of faier and 
goodly women. For, the even lineaments and due 

99 



Galateo proportions of every of them : seeme to have byn 
created & framed by the judgement and sight of 
one face alone. Which cannot be thought in them 
that be foule & deformed. For, when you beholde 
a woman, that hath, peradventure, bigge and 
bowle eyes, a little nose, blubbe cheekes, a flat 
mouth, an put chinne, & a browne skinne : you 
thinke straite that that face is not one womans 
alone : but is moulded of many faces, and made of 
many peeces. And yet, you shall finde amongest 
them, some such, whose partes considered alone 
by them selves, be very perfecft to see to : but all 
set together, be foule and ill favoured: not for 
any other cause, but that they be y® lineaments 
of many faier women, and not of one: So that a 
man would weene, shee had borrowed her partes, 
of this and that woman. And it may be, that 
Painter that had all the faier maides of Calabria, 
naked before him: had none other intent therein, 
then to judge & discerne in many, y® partes y* 
they have, as it were, borrowed heere one, & there 
another, of one, alone: to whome restoring from 
eache y^ was her right: imagining y* Venus bewty 
should be such, and so proportioned: he set him 
selfe to paint her. 

And, you must not think, y* this is to be seene 
in the faces, the partes, and the bodies of women 
alone: but it happenethmore or lesse, in speache, 
in gestures & doings. For, if you should chaunce to 
see a Noble woman gorgius and gallant, washing 
loo 



of cloutes in a River by y^ highe waye side: AI- Of Man- 
thoughe if this were not, you might hapely passe ners and 
away by her, w* little heede to her person or state : Beha v- 
yet this would not brook you nor like you,y^ her lours 
servile doings doe shewe her more then one. For 
her state should answer her honourable condition 
and calling. But her woorke is suche,as is meete for 
women of base and servile life : & although you 
shall feele, neither ill savour nor sent come from 
her, nor heare any noise that should offend you, 
nor any thing els to trouble your minde: yet the 
foule and filthy maner of doing it, and the un- 
seemely acfl it selfe : will makey ou muche to loathe 
it. You must then beware of these fowle and un- 
comely behaviours, asmuche, nay, more then of 
those other, I have spoken all this while. For, it is 
a harder matter a greate deale, to knowe when 
a man faulteth in these, then when he faulteth in 
them. Bycause, It is easier much, we see, to feele 
then to understande. But yet, it may chaunce 
otherwhile, that even that which ofFendeth the 
senses, may also offend the minde: thoughe not 
altogether after one sorte, as I have told you be- 
fore: shewing you that A man must apparell him 
selfe, according to the fashions that other men use : 
that it may not be thought he doth reprove and 
corredl their doings: The which thing offendeth 
most men that seeke to be commended : And the 
wisest men that be, mislike it too. For, the gar- 
ments of the olde world, have lost their date, for 

lOI 



Galateo men of this age and this season to weare. And it is 
suche an ill shapen sight, to see a man clad with 
other mens cloathes: that a man would weene 
there would be a fray betwene the doublet & 
y^ hose: their cloathes doe sit, uppon them so 
untowardly. 

So that, many of those matters I have spoken 
of allredy, or peradventure all, might be aptly 
rehersed here again: forasmuch as this measure 
I speake of here, is not observed in these things : 
nor the time, nor y® place, nor the worke, nor the 
worker, accorded & fitted together, so well as it 
should be. For mens minds and fansies doe like it, & 
take a pleasure and delight in those things. But I 
thought it good to apply & speake these matters, 
rather under y® badge, as it were, of the Senses and 
desires : then properly assigne them to the minde : 
that a man may the more easily perceive them: 
bycause It is a naturall thinge, for everie man to 
feele and desire: but every man cannot so gener- 
ally understand, and especially that, whiche we 
call bewtie, gallantnes or entertainement. 

It is not inoughe for a man, to doe things that be 
good : but hee must also have a care, hee doe them 
with a good grace. And a good grace is nothing 
els, but suche a maner of light (as I may call it) as 
shineth in the aptnes of things set in good order 
and wel disposed, one with another : and perfecftly 
knit and united together. Without which propor- 
tion and measure, even that which is good is not 

I02 



faire: & the fairenes it self, is not plesaunt. And Of Man- 
as meates, though they be good & savourie will ners and 
give men no minde to eate them, if they have no Behav- 
pleasaunt relish and taste: So fares it with the lours 
maners of men other while (althoughe in them 
selves in no respecfl they be ill, but foolishe a little, • 
and fond) if a man doe not season them with a 
certaine sweetenes, which you call (as I take it) 
Grace, and Comlines. 

So that, every vice of it selfe, without any fur- 
ther matter to helpe it (it cannot be chosen) must 
needes offend a man. For, Vices be things so foule 
and filthie: that honest and modest mindes, will 
greeve to see their shamefull effecfts. And there- 
fore, it shall behove them that seeke to be well 
thought of, with their familiar acquaintance, above 
all things els to eschewe vices, and especially those, 
that be foulest and worst: as Leachery,Covetous- 
nes, Crueltie, and other. Of which, somebe beastly, 
as Drunkennes, and Gluttonie: some uncleane, as 
Leacherie: other some horrible, as Murther, and 
such other: all which for them selves, and for the 
very naughtines, that is properly in them al, all 
men eschewe more, or lesse: But, as earst I said, 
generally al, as things of greate disorder, make a 
man misliked muche of all men. 

But, by cause I have not taken uppon me to shew 
unto you, mens sinnes, but their Errors : it shalbe 
no parte of my charge at this time to entreate of y® 
Nature of vices & vertues : but onely of the seemely 

103 



Galateo & unseemely fashions and maners wee use one 
with another. One of the which unseemely fash- 
ions was, that Count Richard did use: of which I 
tould you before. Which, as unseemely and unfit- 
ting with those other his good and faire maners hee 
• had besides : that same worthie Bishop (as a skilfull 
and cunning Maister in musicke will easily here 
a note out of Tune) had quickly founde out. 

It shalbe then, necessarie for gentlemen and men 
of good behaviour, to have a regard to this mea- 
sure I speake of: in going, in standing, in sitting, in 
gesture, in porte, in apparell, in talke,in silence, in 
rest and in acflion. For, a man must not apparell 
him selfe like a woman: that the Attire may not 
be of one sorte,and the person of another: as I doe 
see it in some that weare their heads & their beards 
curled with bodkins, and have their face,anc3 their 
necks, & their hands, so starchte and painted, that 
it were to muche for a girle, nay, harlot, that makes 
a merchandize of it, and sets her selfe to the sale. 

You must smell, neither of sweete nor of sower: 
for a gentleman would not savour nastily like 
a begger: ne del maschio venga odore di femina 

di meretrice. I doe not by this forbid, but you 
may very well use some sweete smelles of sweete 
waters. 

Your apparell must be shaped according to the 
fashion of the time, and your calling, for the causes 

1 have shewed you before. For, We must not take 
uppon us to alter customes at our will. For time 

104 



doth beget them, and time doth also weare them Of Man- 
out, ners and 

Every man may applie those fashions, that be in Behav- 
common use, y^ moste to his owne advantage that ^ours 
hecan.For,ifperchaunceyourIegges be very long, 
and men use but short garments: you may use a 
meane, not to long, nor to short. And if your legges 
be to small, to greate, or crooked : make not your 
hosen of to light and garishe a colour, that it may 
not call men to looke and to gawre uppon your 
deformitie. Thou must weare no garment that 
shall be to light, or overmuche daubdewith gard- 
ing ; that men may not say, thou hast Gany medes 
hosen, or wearest Cupides doublet. But, whatso- 
ever it be thou wearest, let it be fit and well made 
for thy bodie: least thou seme to brave it, in an- 
other mans cloathes. 

But with all, thou must in any case respecft thy "^ 
condition or estate. For, A man of the Clergie, 
must not be attired like a Souldier: nor a Souldier 
goe like a Player. When Castruccio was in Rome 
with Lodovico Baveroata greate Pompe,and tri- 
umphe: who was both Duke of Lucca and Pistoia, 
and Count of Palazzo, and Senatour of Rome: 
this Castruccio, being Lorde greate Maister of the 
saide Lodovico Bavero his househoulde: for his 
bravery, made him a coate of crimsin, uppon 
the brest wherof, there was this devise, in letters 
ofGolde 

It is even as God will. 

lOjJ 



Galateo And uppon the backe behinde. 

And it shallbe as God will. 

I beleeve, you thinke this garment, would have 
become Castruccio his Trumpeter better, then it 
could become him. 

And although Kings be free from checke, and 
may doe what they list: Yet, I could never com- 
mend King Manfrede, Whoe ever more used, to 
suite him selfe in greene. Wee must then have 
a care, that our apparell be not onely wel made 
for the bodie: but that it be meete for our calling. 
And withall, it be suche, as the countrie doth use, 
where wee live. For, As in divers places be divers 
measures, and yet bying and selling every where 
used: So in sundry landes be sundrie customes, 
and yet every where a man may behave him, 
and apparell him selfe, soberly and comely. 

These same feathers, which the Neapolitanes 
and Spaniardes be wont to weare, and braveries 
and Embroderies: have but ill place amongest 
grave gowned men, & the attires that Citizens doe 
weare. But their Armour and weapons become 
suche place a greate deal worse. So that, looke 
what hapely might be allowed in Verona, would 
not, perchaunce, be suffered in Venice. For as 
muche as these gallants, all begarded, and huffing 
infethers, 6c warlike fellowes, would not doe well, 
in this Noble Citie so peacefull & Civil. Suche 
kinde of people be rather, in maner, like nettles 

io6 



and burres, amongest good and sweete garden 
flowers. And therefore, they come out of season 
to men that medlewith graver matters then they 
doe. 

I would not have a gentleman to runne in the 
streate, nor go to fast: for that is for lackies, and 
not for gentlemen to doe. Besides that, it makes 
a man weary, sweate, and puffe: which be very 
unsightly things for suche men to doe. I would 
not yet have a man go so softe and demurely, as 
a maide or a wife. And when a man walkes, it is 
no good sight to see a man shake his bodie to 
muche, nor to hold his handes bare and emptie: 
nor yet cast 6c fling his armes up 6c downe, in such 
sort as a man would weene, hee were soweing of 
Corne in the field: nor Stare in a mans face, as if 
he had spied a mares nest. 

"Ther be some again, in their gate pul up their 
fete as high as a horse y^ hath y® spaven : y* a man 
would think they did pluck their fete forth of a 
bushell. Other againe stampe their feete so harde 
on the ground : that they make allmoste asmuche 
noise as a carte. Another goes as if he were splay 
footed. And suche a one quivers with his legges, 
as he stands. Some other againe, at every foote, 
stoope to stroke up their hose as they goe. And 
some set their handes to their sides, and jet up 6c 
downe like a Pecocke : which fashions doe muche 
offend men: notas well,butas ill beseeminga man 
to use them." For, if your horse, perchaunce, doe 

107 



Of Man- 
ners and 
Behav- 
iours 



Galateo champe and play on the bit, and gape or lill out 
his tounge, albeit this geve little proofe of his 
goodnes: yet it commends him well to the sale: 
and you shoulde fmde a misse of it, if it were 
otherwise: not by cause y^ horse should be ther 
fore the worse: but by cause he should shew the 
lesse courage and pleasure. Now, if it stand so, 
that Comelines and Grace, be so much made of 
in beasts, and also in things without life or sense, 
as experience doth shewe, that, Two things of 
equall goodnes & comodities, beare not for all 
that, a like price, if a man doe beholde a finer pro- 
portion & bewtie, more in the one then he sees 
in the other: How muche then more, should it 
be estemed and commended in men, capable of 
Reason. 

" It is a rude fashion for a man to clawe or scratche 
him selfe, when he sitteth at the table. And a man 
should at such time have a very greate care y^ he 
spit not at all. But, if neede inforce him, then let 
him doe it, after an honest sorte." I have heard tell, 
many times, of suche countries that be so sober: 
that they doe never spitt. And what should then 
let us, but we may well forbeare it for suche a little 
while. We must also beware we doe not eate so 
greedily, that wee get the hicket,or belche withall : 
as some that feede so fast, that they noy the com- 
pany with it : they blowe and puffe so loud. Like- 
wise, you must not rubbe your teeth with your 
napkin, & much lesse with your fingers. For these 
io8 



be trickes for a sloven. Neither must you openly Of Man- 
rince your mouth w* the wine, and then spit it ners and 
fourthe. Neither is it gentleman like, to carry a Behav- 
sticke in your mouth from the table when you lours 
rise, like y^ birde that builds her a nest : or put it in 
your eare, for that is a Barbars tricke. 

And to weare a toothpicke, about your necke: 
of all fashions that is y® worst. For, besides that it is 
a bauld Jewell for a gentleman to pull forth of his 
bosome,and putteth men in mind of thoseTooth- 
drawers, that sit one their benche in the stretes : 
it makes "men also to thinke, that the man loves 
his belly full well, and is provided for it. And I 
see no reason, why they should not aswell carry 
a spoone, about their neckes, as a toothepicke." 

It is a rude fashion besides, to leane over the ta- 
ble, or to fill your mouth so ful of meate, that your 
cheekes be blowne up w^all : neither must you by -^- 
any maner of meanes, give another man to know 
what pleasure you take, in the meate or the wine. 
For yt it is for Taverners and Bousers,to use suche 
fashions. And to entertaine men y^ sit at your 
table, with these words: "You eate nothing this 
morning. There is nothing that likes you." Or, 
"tast you of this or of that:" I doe not allowe of 
these fashions, although they be commonly re- 
ceived and used of all men. For, albeit by these 
meanes, they she we they make much of those 
they have invited unto them: yet, many times, 
they make men to leave to eate wher they would. 

109 



Galateo "For, it geves them to thinke, they have their 
eyes,allwayes uppon them, and that makes them 
ashamed to feede." 

Againe, I doe not like it, that a man shall take up- 
pon him to be a carver of any meate that stands be- 
fore him : if he be not muche the better man, that 
is the carver: that he to whome he carves, may 
thinke he receiveth some credite & honour by it. 
For, Amongest men that be of like condition and 
calling,it makes a hart burning : that he that playes 
the carver, should take more uppon him then an- 
other. And otherwhile,y* which hee carveth,doth 
not like him to whom it is geven. And more then 
this, by this meanes he sheweth, that the feaste is 
not sufficiently furnished, or at least not well dis- 
posed in order, when some have muche, & other 
none at all. And y^ Maister of the house, may 
chaunce to take displesure at that, as if it were 
done to doe him shame. Neverthelesse in these 
matters, a man must demeasne him self, as com- 
mon use and custome will allowe,and not as Rea- 
son & duetie would have it. And I would wishe 
a man rather to erre in these points with many, 
then to be singular in doing well. But whatsoever 
good maner there be in this case, thou must not 
refuse it, whatsoever is carved unto thee. For it 
may be thought thou doest disdaine it, or grunt 
at thy carver. 

Now, to drink all out to every man: which is a 
fashion as litle in use amongst us, as y® terme it 
no 



selfe is barbarous & straunge: I meane, Ick bring Of Man- 
you, is sure a foule thing of it selfe, & in our coun- ners and 
trie socoldly accepted yef.y^wemustnot go about Behav- 
to bring it in for a fashion. If aman doe quaffe or lours 
carrouse unto you, you may honestly say nay to 
pledge him, 6c geveing him thankes, confesse your 
weakenesse, that you are not able to beare it: or 
else, to doe him a pleasure, you may for curtesie 
taste it: and then set downe the cup to them that 
will, and charge your selfe no further. And al- 
though this, Ick bring you, as I have heard many 
learned men say, hath beeneanauncient custome 
in Greece, and that the Graecians doe muche com- 
mend a goodman of that time, Socrates, by name, 
for that hee sat out one whole night long, drinking 
a vie with another good man, Aristophanes : and 
yet y® next morning in the breake of the daye, 
without any rest uppon his drinking, made suche 
a cunning Geometricall Instrument, that there was 
no maner of faulte to be found in the same : And al- 
beit they say besides this, that Even as it makes a 
man bould and hardy, to thrust him selfe venter- 
ouslyotherwhile,in todaungerous perilsof life: so 
likewise it brings a man in to good temper and 
fashion, to enure him selfe otherwhile, with the 
daungers of things not ever chauncing : And by- 
cause the drinking of wine after this sorte, in a vie, 
in such excesse and waste, is a shrewde assault 
to trie the strength of him that quaffes so lustily: 
these Graecians, would have us to use it for a cer- 



III 



Galateo taine proofe of our strength and constancie: and to 
enure us the better, to resist and master all maner 
of strong temptations. 

All this notwithstanding, I am of a contrary 
mind: and I doe thinke all their reasons to fond, 
and to foolishe. But, we see that Learned men have 
suche art and cunning to persuade, and such filed 
wordes to serve their turne : that wrong doth carry 
the cause away, and Reason cannot prevaile. And 
therefore let us give them no credite in this point. 
And what can I tell, if they have a secret drift 
herein, to excuse and cover the fault of their coun- 
trey, that is corrupt with this vice. But it is daun- 
gerous, perchaunce, for a man to reprove them for 
it : least asmuch happen to him, as chaunced to So- 
crates him selfe, for his over lavish controulingand 
checking of every mans fault. For, hewas so spited 
of all men for it: that many articles of heresies & 
other foule faultes were put up against him, and he 
condemned to die in the end: allthough they were 
false. For in truthe, he was a very good man, & 
aChatholike:respe(5ling y® Religion of their false 
Idolatrie. But suer, in that he drunke so muche 
wine that same night: he deserved no praise in the 
worlde. For, the hoggshead was able to holde & re- 
ceive a great deale more, then his companion and 
hee were able to take: if y^ may get any praise. 
And though it did him no harme, that was more, 
the goodnes of his strong braine : then the conti- 
nencieof a sober man. And let the Chronicles talke 

112 



what they list of this matter, I give God thankes, 
that amongest many the Plagues that have 
creapt over the Alpes, to infedt us: hitherto this 
worst of all the rest, is not come over: that we 
should take a pleasure and praise, to be drunke. 
Neither shall I ever beleve,that a man can learne 
to be temperate, of suche a Maister as wine and 
drounkennes. 

The Stewarde of a Noble mans house, may not 
be so bolde to invite straungers,uppon his owne 
head, and set them downe at his Lorde 6c Maisters 
table. And there is none that is wise, will be in- 
treated to it, at his request alone. But otherwhile, 
the servaunts of the house, be so malepert and 
saucie, that they will take uppon them, more 
then their Maister: of which things wee speake 
in this place, more by chaunce, then that the 
order we have taken from the beginning, doth so 
require it. 

A man must not uncase him selfe, in the presence 
ofanyassembly.**Foritisaslovenlysight,inplace 
where honest men be met together of good con- 
dition and calling. And it may chaunce he doth 
uncover those parts of his bodie, which work him 
shame & rebuke to shewe them : besides y*, it 
maketh other men abashed to looke upon them. 
Againe, I wold have no man to combe his head, 
nor washe his hands before men. For such things 
would be done alone in your chamber, and not 
abrode: without it be, I say, to washe your hands 

113 



Of Man- 
ners and 
Behav- 



iours 



Galateo when you sit downe to the table. For, there it shall 
doe well, to washe them in sight, although you 
have no neede: that they with whome you feede, 
may assure them selves you have done it. A man 
must not come forthe with his kercheif, or quaife 
one his head, nor yet stroke up his hosen uppon 
his legges in company. 

** Some men there be, that have a pride or a use to 
drawe their mouthes a little awry, or twinckle up 
their eye, & to blow up their cheekes, and to pufFe, 
and to make, with their countenaunce, sundrie such 
like foolishe and ilfavoured faces and gestures." I 
councell men to leave them cleane. For, Pallas her 
selfe, the Goddesse (as I have hearde some wise 
men say) tooke once a greate pleasure to sound 
the flute & the cornet: &therin she was verie cun- 
ning. It chaunst her, on day, sounding her Cornet 
for her plesure over a fontain, she spide her selfe 
in the water: and when she beheld those strange 
gestures she must nedes make with her mouth as 
she plaid : she was so much ashamed of it that she 
brake the cornet in peces & cast it away. 

And truely she did but well, for it is no instrument 
for a woman to use. And it becomes men as ill, " if 
they be not of y^ base condition and calling, that 
they must make it a gaine, & an art to live uppon 
it. And looke what I speake, concerning the un- 
seemely gestures of the countenance and face: 
concerneth likewise, all the partes and members 
of man. For it is an ill sight, to lill out y^ tounge, 
114 



to stroke your bearde much up and downe (as Of Man- 
many doe use to doe) to rubbe your hands to- ners and 
gether: tosighe,&to sorrowe: to tremble or strike Behav- 
your selfe, which is also a fashion w* some: to lours 
reatche and stretche your selfe, & so retching, 
to cry out after a nice maner, Alas, Alas: like a 
country cloune, y^ should rouse him selfe in his 
couche." 

And he that makes a noise w* his mouth in a 
token of wonder, and other while, of contempte 
and disdaine: "counterfetethan ilfavoured grace. 
And Counterfet things, differ not muche from 
truethes." 

A man must leave those foolishe maner of laugh- 
ings, groase and uncomely. "And let men laughe 
uppon occasion, and not uppon custome. But a 
man must beware he doe not laughe at his owne 
gestes,and his doings. For that makes menweene 
hee woulde faine praise him selfe. It is for other 
men to laughe that heare, and not for him that 
telles the tale." 

Now, you must not beare your selfe in hand, 
that bycause eache of these matters considered 
a parte, is but a small fault, y^ hole therefore to- 
gether should be as light: but you must rather 
persuade your selfe y^ Many a litle doth make 
a mickle, as I tould you from the beginning. And 
how muche lesse they be, so much the more neede 
a man hathe to looke well in to them : bycause 
they be not easily perceived a far of, but creepe 

11 J 



Galateo in to us by custom, before we be a ware. And, 
As light expences often used, in Continuance of 
time, doe covertly waste and consume a greate 
masse of wealth and riches: So doe these light 
faultes with the multitude and number of them, 
in secret overthrow all honest and good civilitie 
and maner. So y* we must not make a light recon- 
ing of them. 

Moreover, it is a nedefull observation to bethinke 
your selfe, how you doe move your bodie, and 
specially in talke."For,it many times chaunceth, 
a man is so ernest in his tale, that hee hath no 
minde of any thing els. One wagges his head. An- 
other lookes bigg and scowles with his browes. 
That man pulls his mouth awry. And tother spittes 
in and uppon their faces with whome he talkes. 
And som suche there be that move their hands 
in suche a sorte, as if they should chase y® flies 
as they go: which be very unhansome & un- 
seemely maners to use." And I have heard it saide 
(for youknowe I have byn familiarly acquainted 
with learned men in my time) that Pindarus that 
worthy man was wont to saye: that "Whatsoever 
it were that had a good & savourie taste: was sea- 
soned by the hands of the Graces. Now, what shall 
I speake of them y* come forthe of their studies 
with their penne in their eare: and nibble their 
hankercheifs in their mouthe,or ly lolling w* their 
leggeover the table,orspitone their fingers, and of 
a number of other blockishe gestures and fashions 
ii6 



more then these, which cannot be all rehearsed Of Man- 
well : nor shal not, I meane, put me to further ners and 
paines to tel them al if I could. For, there be manie Behav- 
perchaunce will say this is to muche, that I have lours 
said allredie." 



FINIS 



BIBLIOGRAPHICAL NOTE 



BIBLIOGRAPHICAL NOTE 






Giovanni della Casa,the author of the"GaIateo,'* 
was born near Florence in 1503, and died at Rome 
in i^j6. He took orders before 1^38, and became 
successively Apostolic Clerk, Apostolic Commis- 
sary, Archbishop of Benevento, Papal Nuncio at 
Venice, and Secretary of State under Paul IV. 
He was distinguished as a poet, as a diplomatist, 
and as an orator. 

The "Galateo" was written between ij^i and 
IJ5J, ^t the suggestion of Galeazzo Florimonte, 
Bishop of Sessa, whose "poetic" name it bears 
in consequence. It was published posthumously 
at Venice, in i^^8, in a volume entitled " Rime e 
Prose di M. Giov. della Casa," and was repub- 
lished separately at Milan in 1559, at Florence in 
ij6o, and often thereafter. A complete edition of 
the works of Della Casa, in three volumes, was 
edited by Casotti at Florence in 1707. 

The "Galateo" was translated into French by 
Jean du Peyrat in 1^62, and again, anonymously, 
with the original and the translation on opposite 
pages, in 1573. ^ Spanish version by Domingo 
Becerra was published in 1^8^, and this was fol- 
lowed in 1^99 by a loose imitation by Gracian 
Dantisco, entitled "El Galateo Espanol," which 

121 



Biblio- in its turn was translated into English in 1640 by 
graphi- William Styles as "Galateo Espagnol, or the Span- 
cal ish Gallant." In 1598 an edition of the"Galateo"in 

Note fQUj. languages, Italian, French, Latin, and Span- 
ish, was published at Lyons; and a German ver- 
sion was added in the editions of 1609 and 1615. 
The first English translation, by Robert Peter- 
son of Lincoln's Inn, appeared in 1^76, as **Gala- 
teo of Maister lohn Delia Casa, Archebishop of 
Beneventa, or rather a Treatise of the Manners 
and Behaviours it behoveth a Man to use in his 
familiar Conversation;" and an edition of it, lim- 
ited to one hundred copies, was privately printed 
by H. ]. Reid in 1892. Peterson's rendering is 
based almost entirely on the anonymous French 
translation of ijj 73, although he occasionally re- 
fers to the Italian original on the opposite pages. 
Two proofs of his indebtedness will suffice: 
Where the Frenchman renders the single Ital- 
ian word " mezzanamente " by the phrase " avec 
discretion et mediocrite," Peterson follows him 
with "by Discretion and Measure;" and again, 
the single word "questa" in Delia Casa becomes 
"cette gracieusete et courtoisie" in the French 
and "this civilitie and courtesie" in the English 
version. 

At least five other English translations have 
been published. In 1616, Thomas Gainsford ap- 
pended to his "Rich Cabinet" an "Epitome of 
Good Manners extracfted from Archbp. J. de la 
122 



Casa;" the treatise was paraphrased by N. W. as Biblio- 
"The Refin'd Courtier" in 1663; in 1701, an Eng- graphi- 
lish translation (from the Latin version of N. Chy- cal 
traeus) was published " by several young Gen- Note 
tlemen educated at a private Grammar School 
near Hackney," under the title of "]. Casa his 
Galateus, or a Treatise of Manners;" a version 
entitled "Galateo of Manners" appeared in 1703; 
and still another version, entitled "Galateo, or a 
Treatise on Politeness and Delicacy of Manners," 
appeared in 1774. Delia Casa was also the author 
of another treatise on conducft, " Trattato degli 
UfFici communi tragli Amici superiori e inferiori," 
which was translated into English by Henry 
Stubbe in 166^, as "The Arts of Grandeur and 
Submission." 

Peterson's version is reproduced in the present 
work. The proofs have been collated with the 
British Museum copy of the original 1^76 edition 
by Mr. W. B. Owen, formerly scholar of St. Cath- 
arine's College, Cambridge. In deference to the 
insistence of the publisher and the general editor, 
a few passages "perfume our pages only in their 
native Italian." j p o 



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